^MM  ^tr:smM^G^>-^;)lS 


LIFE  AND  ADVENTURES 


OF 


Lewis  Wetzel, 


THE  RENOWNED 

VIRGINIA  RANGER  AND  SCOUT. 

COMPRISING 

A  THRILLING  HISTORY  OF  THIS  CELEBRATED  INDIAN  FIGHTER, 
WITH  HIS  PERILOUS  ADVENTURES  AND  HAIR-BREADTH 
ESCAPES,   AND   INCLUDING  OTHER   INTEREST- 
ING INCIDENTS  OF  BORDER-LIFE. 

LARGELY  COMPILED 

From  Authentic  Kecords  Hitherto  Unpublished 


BT 

R  C.  V.  MEYEES,  Esq. 


WITH  ILLUSTRATIONS. 


PHILADELPHIA! 
JOHN  E.  POTTER  AND  COMPANY, 

617  Sansom  Street. 


COPYRIGHT 
By  JOHN  E.  POTTER  &  COMPANY 


m 


•    \AJ54 

PREFACE.  pl/^f  JQ 


In  the  preparation  of  this  -work,  the  author  has  had 
peculiar  advantages.  He  has  had  access  to  a  large 
collection  of  Miscellanies  touching  on  early  border  times. 
He  has  had  the  opportunity  of  consulting  rare  authors  on 
frontier  life  and  warfare.  He  has  derived  considerable 
aid,  in  the  disposition  of  his  materials,  from  former  writers 
on  various  subjects  connected  with  the  life  and  manners  of 
our  early  Western  settlers.  He  has  also  enjoyed  a  large 
acquaintance  among  those  who  are  directly  or  remotely 
the  descendants  of  the  Wetzel  family,  and  especially 
among  the  descendants  of  those  who  lived  at  the  time 
when  the  hero  of  this  work  lived,  or  at  the  places  he 
frequented.  He  has,  therefore,  been  enabled,  in  many 
cases,  to  verify  the  truth  of  incidents  which  he  found  in 
books  by  these  oral  traditions,  and  in  other  instances  he 
has  carefully  collated  traditional  reports  with  these  written 
records. 

But  the  author  has  had  frequent  occasion  to  congratu- 
late himself  on  the  possession  of  family  documents  in  the 
form  of  diaries,  or  letters,  written  at  the  time.  These 
private  records  give  an  idea  of  the  times  they  were  written 
in  in  that  naive  and  simple  style  which  pertains  to  all 
writings  meant  primarily  but  for  the  owner's  eye,  or  those 
of  his  near  friends.  He  has  violated  no  confidence  with 
these  manuscripts;  but,  in  several  instances,  he  has  been 
induced  to  quote,  in  the  very  language  of  the  memoirs, 
certain  portions  specially  bearing  upon  the  subject  in 
hand,  and  in  many  more  he  has  given  the  substance. 

(iii) 


Me??9591 


iv  PREFACE. 

From  these  various  sources  the  author  has  collated  the 
scenes  and  incidents  and  thrilling  adventures  of  the 
celebrated  scout.  And  with  all  due  sense  of  his  faults — 
and  no  one  can  feel  these  more  than  the  author  hiraself — 
he  cherishes  the  hope,  both  that  he  has  succeeded  in  form- 
ing such  an  idea  of  the  times  of  Lewis  Wetzel  as  is  most 
consonant  to  the  truth,  and  in  representing  these  times  in 
an  intelligent  and  entertaining  manner  to  the  reader. 

The  author  has  not  been  able  to  regard  Wetzel  as  a 
paragon  of  virtue,  an  erring  devotee  of  a  mistaken 
fanaticism,  or  so  void  of  principle  as  to  account  the  blood 
of  his  fellow-creatures  cheap,  provided  it  was  flowing 
beneath  a  red  skin.  But  he  was  a  man  of  the  times,  one 
who  proved  a  bulwark  for  the  infant  settlements,  and  a 
right  arm  for  their  defense — and  in  this  sense,  truly  a  hero. 

And  in  his  view  of  the  Indian  character,  the  author  has 
also  taken  a  middle  course.  He  has  been  unable  to  see  in 
the  Indian  all  the  simplicity  which  sentimental  philan- 
thropy affects  to  find  there.  But  he  has  likewise  failed  to 
see  all  the  fiendishness  sometimes  ascribed  to  that  character 
by  those  who  are  interested  in  dispossessing  the  Indian  from 
his  soil.  Much  might  be  said  in  extenuation  of  the  hostil- 
ity of  the  savage.  But  there  is  also  another  side.  And  we 
fail  as  often  when  we  lose  sight  of  the  character  of  the 
civilization  of  the  pioneers  as  we  do  when  we  forget  the 
law  of  human  progress;  for  behind  all  we  must  bow  with 
awe  and  reverence  before  that  Divine  Providence,  who 
controls  and  bends  the  world  to  his  will. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
From  Old  Things  Unto  New 9 

CHAPTER  II. 
A  Childhood 22 


CHAPTER  111. 
The  Bear 35 

CHAPTER  IV. 
The  Oath 49 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Indian  Scout • 74 

CHAPTER  VI. 
Martin  Wetzel 104 

CHAPTER  VII. 
A  Massacre 125 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Crawford's  Campaign 154 

CHAPTER  IX. 
A  Pursuit  and  an  Escape 181 

CHAPTER  X. 
An  Indian  Waylaid 199 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Capture  and  Escape 229 

(V) 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  XII,  ,^^^ 

Free , 247 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  Hundred  Dollars  Reward 259 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
The  Turkey-Cry 276 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  Chance  for  an  Arrest 292 

CHAPTER  XVI* 
The  Ijtdian  Ctirl 300 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

TRLA.L  AND  ACQUITTAL 306 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 
The  Indian  Camp 322 

CHAPTER  XIX. 
The  Hut  in  the  Storm 331 

CHAPTER  XX. 
The  Story  or  the  Lovers 343 

CHAPTER  XXI. 
Wetzel's  Brothers 359 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
The  New  Orleans  Episode 388 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
The  Last  Indian 401 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
Vale 407 


Lewis  Wetzel: 

THE   VIEGIH'IA    KANGER 


'     CHAPTER  I. 

FROM  OLD   THINGS  UNTO   NEW. 

TN  the  early  spring  of  1764  a  family  of  emigrants 
wended  its  way  through  the  wilds  of  Pennsylvania 
out  to  the  almost  unbroken  West.  It  was  the  family 
of  a  poor  farmer,  John  Wetzel  by  name,  from  Lan- 
caster, or  its  immediate  vicinity, — an  "up-country 
Dutchman,"  of  more  than  average  intelligence,  bent 
on  trying  for  a  new  home  in  the  less  claimed  por- 
tions of  his  Majesty's  colonies.  There  was  the  wife — 
a  strong,  helpful  woman — and  two  children, — sons, 
— the  older  two  years  of  age,  the  younger  perhaps 
two  months. 

It  is  with  this  infant  that  this  narrative  has  to  do 
— when  he  had  become  a  man  moving  through  stir- 
ring scenes,  a  prominent  figure,  yet  seeming  alone 
and  aloof  from  others.     This  day,  however,  he  lay 

(9) 


10  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

with  his  mother  at  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  which 
contained  all  that  belonged  to  his  father,  who  drove 
the  pair  of  hardy  asses  that  plodded  patiently  along 
the  heavy  unkept  roads,  his  two-year-old  boy  on  the 
seat  beside  him. 

They  had  started  early  in  the  morning  of  this 
bright  spring  day  when  all  nature  vied  to  keep  and 
hold  them  back :  the  birds  sang  the  songs  they  had 
known  always ;  the  dear  old-fashioned  flowers  beck- 
oned them  only  to  stay ;  the  dogs  barked  their  re- 
monstrances; the  sad-eyed  cows  leaned  over  the 
rails,  or  raised  their  heads  from  the  juicy  young 
clover  to  low  out  a  tender  warning  that  though  these 
travelers  went  farther  they  would  see  little  that  could 
claim  their  hearts  so  much  as  what  they  left  behind. 

There  were  also  a  few  old  men,  with  pipes  in 
their  mouths,  moving  across  the  gardens;  and  the 
sound  of  the  heavy,  rattling  team  brought  pleasant- 
faced  women  to  the  doors,  and  all  had  a  word  for 
"the  Wetzels"  so  fool-hardily  turning  their  backs 
upon  old  associations  to  face  vague  and  untried 
new. 

But  John  Wetzel  had  ever  been  known  as  a  stub- 
born, self-willed  man,  hard  to  turn,  and  ever  since 
neighbors  Eberly  and  Rosencranz  had  left  for  the 
proposed  settlement  in  the  western  part  of  Virginia, 
he  had  chafed  and  looked  with  eyes  averted  on  the 


FROM  OLD  THINGS  UNTO  NEW.  U 

smallness  of  his  surroundings.  He  had  neglected 
his  tiny  place  with  its  two  hogs  and  one  cow  and 
limited  garden  space,  where  only  enough  throve  to 
keep  the  little  household  in  food.  He  had  neglected 
the  tavern,  where  of  evenings  he  used  to  make  one 
of  the  many  who  planned  and  plotted  better  ways 
than  were  ever  adopted  to  put  down  the  Indians 
that  were  reported  to  treat  the  far-off  settlers  so 
shamefully,  and  whose  depredations  were  not  un- 
known here. 

He  went  about  the  place  moody  and  gloomy,  pay- 
ing no  attention  to  anything,  only  fretfully  chafing 
because  of  his  environments. 

"  It's  enough  to  kill  his  wife,"  asseverated  neighbor 
Trull's  wife,  "and  her  in  her  condition  too!  Drat 
the  man,  he's  a  lune !  He'd  far  better  be  a-doing 
something  to  put  something  in  the  mouths  o'  them 
that's  depending  on  him,  than  namby-pambying 
around,  as  if  he  was  rich  as  the  Heisters.  I've  no 
patience  with  him,  for  my  part." 

Yes,  and  it  was  his  wife's  condition  that  made  him 
so  idle,  that  kept  him  from  doing  what  he  so  longed 
to  do,  and  what  a  letter  from  neighbors  Rosen cranz 
and  Eberly  had  impressed  so  strongly  on  his  mind 
that  nothing  could  remove  or  efface  it. 

"  I  must  wait !  I  must  wait !"  he  said  impatiently. 
"It's  always  the  way  with  a  man  who  sees  his 


12  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

chance — he  must  wait.  But  in  my  case  it  can 
hardly  be  helped."  And  he  sighed,  and  went  for  a 
long  walk  through  places  he  had  once  loved,  but 
which  were  now  hateful  and  monotonous  to  a  man 
who  had  imbibed  suddenly  a  spirit  of  progress. 

He  waited  weeks,  he  waited  a  whole  month. 
Then  the  wail  of  a  baby's  voice  was  heard  in  the 
little  house,  and  John  Wetzel  rejoiced.  He  waited 
two  weeks  more,  and  then  one  day  while  in  the 
garden  he  looked  up  and  saw  his  wife  sitting  by  the 
window  of  their  own  little  chamber,  looking  happy 
and  bright,  her  face  filled  with  mother-care. 

He  threw  a  little  flower  up  to  her. 

*'  Come  up,"  she  said. 

He  entered  the  room  where  she  was,  and  said 
kindly,  but  without  preamble :  "  Wife,  I  have  some- 
thing to  say  to  you  which  I  have  waited  long  weeks 
to  say.  And — but  now,  to-day,  you  are  strong  again, 
are  you  not?" 

"  Strong,  John,  with  the  grace  of  the  Lord,"  she 
replied. 

"  And  you  are  strong  enough  to  move  ?" 

"Move!  and  where  to?  —  where  can  we  move 
to  ?" 

"  There's  land  for  the  man  who  claims  it — far  away 
towards  the  setting  sun." 

"Not  amongst  the  Indians?"  she  cried  in  terror, 


FROM  OLD  THINGS  UNTO  N:EW.  13 

placing  her  hand  instinctively  across  the  cradle 
where  her  baby  slept  the  rosy  sleep  of  childhood. 

"  Why  not?"  asked  her  husband  in  return.  "The 
Indians  are  not  God  Almighty." 

"  John !"  she  gasped,  "  such  profanity !" 

"  No  profanity,"  he  returned.  "  The  profanity  is 
in  the  fear  we  have  for  men  who  are  only  like  myself; 
less  than  myself,  because  of  their  ignorance  and  per- 
fidy and  untruth.  We  place  them  on  a  plane  with 
Deity  in  fearing  them." 

"  Or  demons." 

"  We  should  not  fear  the  devil  and  his  works." 

"  Oh,  husband !"  she  cried,  for  in  her  eyes  this  was 
tempting  the  spirit  of  ill. 

"  This  is  neither  here  nor  there,"  he  went  on,  with 
a  light  in  his  e^^es  which  the  wives  of  strong  men 
learn  to  know  as  a  part  of  their  husbands  not  to  be 
tampered  with ;  "  the  question  is,  will  you  go  ?  You 
know  how  it  is  here — how  poor  we  are,  how  restless 
I  have  ever  been.  Will  you  accept  the  profusion  of 
the  Lord,  spread  out  for  us  for  the  accepting? 
Either  we  go,  or  others  will — if  not  now,  then  at 
some  future  time." 

"  Nobody  we  know  will  ever  go  out  to  the  wild 
Indian  country,"  she  insisted. 

"  We  will,  if  you  trust  your  husband,"  he  rejoined, 
and  turned  to  leave  the  room. 

2 


14  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

As  he  went  out  by  the  narrow  door  he  felt  a  soft 
touch  on  his  face.  His  wife  had  hurriedly  snatched 
the  baby  from  its  cradle  and  placed  its  flushed  cheek 
to  its  father's.     He  turned  to  her. 

"  This  child  will  be  poor  as  I  am,"  he  said  bitterly, 
"  or  rich  with  plenty.     It  is  for  you  to  decide." 

"  No,"  she  answered,  "  it  is  for  you  to  say.  I  am 
only  a  weak  woman,  but  I  trust  my  husband  with 
the  strength  of  all  women." 

"  And  you  will  go  ?" 

"  *  Whither  thou  goest,  I  will  go ;  and  where  thou 
lodgest  I  will  lodge,' "  she  said  softly,  and  laid  her 
baby  closer  yet  to  him. 

So  it  came  to  be  known  in  the  place  that  the 
"Wetzel  family  was  absolutely  proposing  to  emigrate 
just  so  soon  as  the  baby  was  old  enough  to  go  on 
the  long  journey,  which  would  be  when  two  moons 
had  rolled  over  its  head.  Every  obstacle  was 
paraded  before  the  man  who  desired  to  better  him- 
self at  the  expense  of  personal  comfort  and  the 
severance  of  familiar  ties;  sentiment  was  imme- 
diately called  into  play :  and  the  bones  of  his  ances- 
tors, lying  in  the  adjacent  graveyards,  were  conjured 
up  before  him,  how  those  bones  might  naturally 
be  expected  to  "turn"  in  their  kindred  earth,  did 
they  know  of  this  flagrant  breach  and  go-ahead-at- 
iveness  on  the  part  of  a  fool-hardy  descendant  not 
content  to  let  well-enough  alone  1 


FROM  OLD  THINGS  UNTO  NEW.  15 

A  stern,  stout,  red-faced  man  came  to  the  tavern 
and  proclaimed:  "I  am  a  justice  of  the  peace,  friend 
John  Wetzel,  so  listen  to  me.     Ahem  !" 

"Yes,  listen  to  the  justice  of  the  peace,"  cried  all 
the  idlers  in  the  place,  crowding  around.  The  stout 
man  hemmed. 

"  Your  native  place  should  suffice  you,"  he  said 
sententiously. 

"  It  does ;  but  I  want  more  of  it,"  responded  John 
Wetzel. 

"He  wants  more  of  it!"  said  the  chorus  of  idlers, 
lost  in  astonishment;  for  they  had  never  wanted 
more  of  it,  and  were  content  to  live  on  half  a  head 
of  cabbage  when  they  could  not  get  a  whole,  so  that 
they  only  had  a  right  to  complain  of  the  crops,  and 
how  it  never  rained  when  it  should  rain,  or  if  it  did 
rain  it  simply  poured  and  ruined  everything. 

The  stout  man  looked  more  a  justice  of  the 
peace  every  second,  and  after  the  chorus  had  sub- 
sided into  silence  he  brought  a  heavy  look  to  bear 
on  John  Wetzel.  Sentiment  had  failed ;  now  cogent 
reasoning  should  be  employed. 

"I  am  a  justice  of  the  peace,"  he  went  on,  "and 
I  am  supposed  to  represent  wisdom — that  is,  I  am  a 
reasoner.    Ahem  I" 

The  chorus  only  looked  at  each  other  j  this  was 
going  beyond  them. 


16  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  justice  of  the  peace  now  looked  like  a  prime 
minister. 

"Conceded  I  am  wise,  am  I,  then,  fit  to  argify 
with  you  in  this  foolish  determination  of  yours?" 

The  chorus  was  dumb. 

John  Wetzel  was  as  dumb  as  the  others. 

With  a  look  fit  for  a  king,  and  a  voice  of  thunder, 
the  justice  of  the  peace,  throwing  up  his  hand,  said: 
"  John  Wetzel,  I  am  wise.  Are  you  ?  You  go  away 
from  all  you  know,  out  to  wild  lands  which — which 
— you  do  not  know.  You  leave  a  house  for — for 
— no  house.  For  pleasant  grunting  hogs,  fit  for 
sausages  and — and — other  things,  you  will  have 
buffaloes  and — and — other  things.  For  cows  that 
yield  streams  of  peaceful  milk  that  oozes  with 
richness,  you  will  have  buzzards  and — and — things 
that  yield  no  milk  at  all.  Your  wife — your  wifcy 
John"  (here  the  justice  of  the  peace  got  a  quavering 
in  his  throat);  "and  your  son  Martin,  John;  and 
your  baby  Lewis,  John — oh,  upon  what  will  they 
subsist?  Can  they  make  buzzard  savory?  Can 
they  drink  Indian  ?  Nay,  John,  you  will  not,  cannot 
go.  I  am  wise;  I  cannot  help  being  so.  His  Majesty 
may  have  heard  of  me.     But  are  you  wise  ?" 

"  Are  you  wise  ?"  echoed  the  chorus. 

"  I  never  set  up  for  a  wiseacre,"  said  John  Wetzel, 
smiling,  and  moving  towards  the  door. 


FROM  OLD  THINGS  UNTO  NEW.  17 

"  Yea,  John,"  said  the  justice,  "  we  cannot  all  be 
so.     But  it  is  conceded  that  I  am  wise,  and " 

"The  great  Paul  saith,"  went  on  John  Wetzel, 
still  moving  towards  the  door,  "  the  great  Paul  saith, 
*  If  any  man  among  you  seemeth  to  be  wise  in  this 
world,  let  him  become  a  fool  that  he  may  be  wise.' " 

The  justice  of  the  peace,  stared  as  who  should  ask 
if  the  world  had  come  to  an  end,  and  looking  very 
much  like  a  justice  of  the  peace  after  all,  sank  back 
into  his  chair  at  the  head  of  the  table,  muttering 
feebly :  "  A  fool !  wise !"  and  closed  his  eyes. 

"A  fool!  wise!"  gasped  the  chorus,  and  began 
to  think  that  Saint  Paul  as  well  as  John  Wetzel 
had  much  to  answer  for  in  saying  such  harrowing 
things  of  the  justice  of  the  peace. 

"  Where  is  he?"  asked  the  justice,  reviving. 

"Saint  Paul,  your  Honor?"  returned  one. 

"  Out  upon  you  for  a  malefactor !"  cried  his  Honor. 
"Where  is  the  man  John  W^etzel,  the  reprobate?" 

But  no  one  could  answer  just  then,  for  the  door 
had  swung  open  and  shut  again,  and  he  was  not 
there.  Some  one  pulled  aside  the  curtain,  and  they 
saw  him  striding  on  towards  his  home  with  the  step 
of  a  boy. 

But  the  justice  of  the  peace  was  highly  respected, 
and  it  seemed  that  Saint  Paul  had  questioned  his 
authority  and  dignity,  and  in  so  doing  had  been 


18  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

represented  by  John  Wetzel.  As  the  principal  could 
not  be  touched,  the  representative  was  held  an- 
swerable. So,  very  few  people  came  to  the  Wetzels 
during  their  preparations  for  removal,  and  on  the 
last  day  of  their  stay  nobody  but  little  Grizzle 
Heister  came  to  say  farewell.  Grizzle  was  only  four- 
teen or  fifteen,  a  mere  chit;  but  she  cried  a  good 
deal.  She  had  something  in  her  pocket  which 
bulged  out.  She  kissed  Mrs.  Wetzel,  and  cried ;  she 
kissed  little  Martin,  and  cried.  Over  the  baby  she 
broke  down  completely. 

"Oh,  the  Injuns  will  eat  him,"  she  wept;  "the 
awful  Injuns !" 

"  Or  he'll  eat  the  Injuns,"  grinned  John  Wetzel, 
now  all  animation  and  life. 

"  And  his  clothes  '11  wear  out,  and  he  won't  have 
anything  but  bear-skin  to  wear,"  said  Grizzle. 

"  Bear-skin  's  warm,"  grinned  John  Wetzel. 

"  He  shan't  wear  bear-skin,"  shrieked  Grizzle,  "for 
I've  brought  this.  It  was  in  father's  private  room, 
and  he  gave  it  to  me  when  I  told  him  what  it  was 
for.  Here!  let  me  wrap  it  around  little  Lewis  to 
keep  him  warm." 

"  This"  was  a  small  flag  of  Great  Britain,  and  the 
baby  looked  gay  in  it. 

"  You've  made  an  Indian  of  him  already.  Griz- 
zle," said  John  Wetzel,  "  with  all  the  bright  red. 


FBOM  OLD  THINGS  UNTO  NEW.  19 

Yes,  he  can  wear  the  flag  of  his  country,  though 
the  flag  never  waved  over  much  that  he  dared  call 
his  own."  John  Wetzel  'w^as  one  of  those  discon- 
tented colonists  who  did  not  feel  glad  at  being 
oppressed. 

So  Grizzle  went  away,  and  the  sun  sank  upon  the 
last  day  of  the  Wetzel s'  stay  here. 

In  the  early  morning  they  were  on  their  way. 
When  all  the  pleasant  familiar  scene  burst  upon  the 
eyes  of  the  adventurous  man,  who  knows  what  his 
feelings  were ! 

"  Wife,"  he  said  once,  holding  in  the  team,  "  come 
sit  here  in  front,  for  a  last  look." 

She  came  out  with  her  baby  on  her  arm  and  sat 
beside  her  husband.  She  looked  over  the  smiling 
landscape,  over  all  she  knew  so  well,  all  that  she 
had  ever  known  and  loved.  Then  she  looked  into 
her  husband's  eyes. 

"Must  it  be?"  she  asked  tremulously.  "Must 
it  be?" 

"  The  free  land  calls  us,"  he  answered,  waving  his 
hand  westward.     "  Must  it  be,  wife?" 

"  It  must  be !"  she  said,  with  compressed  lips. 

"  Get  up  1"  he  cried  to  the  team,  and  they  were  on 
their  way  again. 

His  wife  still  sat  on  the  front  seat  of  the  wagon. 
She  wiped  her  ej^es  once  or  twice,  then  she  fairly 
broke  down,  hiding  her  face  in  her  baby. 


20  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"That  is  no  way  to  conquer  rebellion,"  remon- 
strated her  husband;  "and  we  go  out  to  conquer, 
not  give  in." 

"  It  shall  never  be  again,"  she  said,  and  it  never 
again  occurred  while  he  was  alive.  She  was  remov- 
ing something  from  about  her  baby's  shoulders.  "My 
tears  have  wetted  all  the  pretty  flag,"  she  continued. 
It  was  Grizzle  Heister's  gift,  all  sodden  with  the 
mother's  tears. 

"  That  flag  has  caused  too  many  tears,"  said  John 
Wetzel  sententiously.  "  We  will  have  it  no  longer, 
the  ugly  rag."  And  he  tore  it  from  the  child  and 
threw  it  into  the  dust  at  the  feet  of  his  team,  with  a 
look  of  contempt  on  his  face  that  his  wife  could  not 
understand. 

There  were  few  to  prophesy  of  that  more  beautiful 
flag  of  thirteen  alternate  white  and  red  stripes  with 
"  a  union  of  thirteen  stars,  white  on  a  blue  ground, 
representing  a  new  constellation,"  the  flrst  represen- 
tative of  which  was  to  be  made  in  the  shop  of  Betsy 
Eoss,  in  Philadelphia,  when  the  little  Lewis  should 
be  thirteen  years  of  age. 

But  little  knew  John  Wetzel  of  this  as  on  his  way 
to  Wheeling  Creek  he  conveyed  his  family  that  day 
from  the  old  home  they  were  never  to  know  again. 

Days  and  nights  came  down  as  the  heavy  wagon 
moved  on  slowly  through  the  almost  untrodden 


FROM  OLD  THINGS  UNTO  NEW.  21 

wilderness.  The  cry  of  wolves  became  of  little 
account  as  farther  and  farther  the  patient  asses 
took  forward  the  little  group.  The  strange  herbage 
of  the  wilderness  replaced  the  smiling  fields  and 
fragrant  homely  flower-gardens. 

The  peculiar  freedom  of  everything  around  them 
insensibly  crept  over  the  husband  and  wife.  The 
little  boy  in  the  wagon  cried  to  get  out  for  the 
pretty  grasses,  and  walked  along  beside  the  wagon 
happy  and  free.  The  baby  looked  out  on  the  sunny 
landscape  and  crowed.  There  were  no  poor  men 
here,  there  were  no  rich  men :  all  were  alike.  Every 
man  was  Adam ;  every  woman,  Eve.  Abel  lived  in 
every  little  child,  and  Cain  had  not  yet  learned  to 
be  dissatisfied  with  the  reception  of  his  sacrifice. 


22  LEWIS  WETZEL. 


CHAPTER  11. 

A   CHILDHOOD. 

JOHN  WETZEL,  going  out  with  the  determina- 
tion  to  conquer  difSiculties,  seemed  to  court  those 
which  were  almost  insuperable. 

"  Settle  with  us  here,  on  Wheeling  Creek,"  urged 
his  old  neighbor  Eberly. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "there  are  too  many  here 
already.    I'm  going  farther  up." 

"  But  the  danger " 

"Had  I  been  afraid  of  danger  I  should  never 
have  come  here.  There  seems  to  me  more  danger 
of  staying  with  men  than  with  nature." 

"  Then  Indians  will  be  your  nature." 

"I  know  very  little  about  Indians.  I  know  a 
good  deal  about  white  men." 

"  You  are  a  strange  man,  Wetzel." 

"  I  am  as  I  am,"  he  returned. 

"And  you  do  not  see  the  wisdom  of  settling  with 
us  here?" 

"  I  do  not  see  the  wisdom :  it  may  be  yours ;  it  is 
not  mine." 


A  CHILDHOOD.  23 

"  Good-bye !"  they  shouted  after  his  wagon. 

"  Good-bye  I"  he  replied,  and  the  asses  moved  on, 
and  trod  down  the  long  grasses,  and  the  few  settlers 
after  awhile  lost  sight  of  the  wagon. 

For  miles  the  hardy  man  went  on,  and  at  last 
sighted  a  spot  that  pleased  him.  It  was  on  Big 
Wheeling,  fourteen  miles  from  the  river. 

"  Ycu  are  not  afraid?"  asked  he  of  his  wife,  as  she 
stepped  from  the  wagon  and  looked  around  her. 

"What  is  there  to  be  afraid  of?"  she  asked  in 
return,  holding  her  baby  closer  to  her. 

"  Nothing  but  want,  such  as  we  have  left  behind 
us,"  he  answered. 

She  put  her  baby  in  the  wagon  with  its  little 
brother,  and  set  about  making  a  fire  and  preparing 
their  meal. 

They  lived  in  the  wagon  for  days,  until  a  rude 
cabin  had  been  erected  by  Wetzel,  at  which  his  wife 
was  not  behind-hand  in  assisting.  In  two  weeks 
they  were  domiciled  in  a  hom'e. 

"  Thank  God,"  said  John  Wetzel  reverently,  "  we 
are  free !" 

If  loneliness  is  sjrnonymous  with  freedom,  they 
were  indeed  free.  The  spot  on  which  the  cabin 
stood  v\'as  the  most  exposed  imaginable,  on  every 
side  open  to  incursions  from  Indians,  were  they  bent 
on  hostility.    The  family  was  wholly  beyond  the 


24  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

reach  of  any  prompt  aid  from  the  settlement  and 
fort  at  Wheeling,  should  succor  be  needed. 

But  in  a  little  while  they  made  up  their  minds 
that  they  needed  no  aid.  They  had  left  the  pent-in 
life  of  poverty  behind  them,  and  now  they  reveled 
in  the  wealth  and  prodigality  of  nature.  Their  lack 
of  fear  created  a  lack  of  caution.  And  in  this  cabin, 
so  far  removed  from  any  signs  of  civilized  life,  they 
set  about  beginning  life  anew.  It  was  a  happy  life 
for  months,  for  years.  They  rarely  saw  any  white 
man.  An  Indian  now  and  then  stopped  at  the  door, 
accepted  some  tobacco,  and  moved  off.  Sometimes 
a  stray  squaw  would  come  up  with  dried  venison  to 
trade  for  powder,  and  would  ask  to  hold  the  papooses 
a  little  while.  Then  in  fiercely  cold  weather  even 
these  failed.  For  months  at  a  time  no  human  being: 
approached  them.  The  husband  and  father  at  rare 
intervals  went  to  Wheeling  for  necessary  supplies: 
his  wife  never  w^ent,  never  had  any  desire  to  go. 
Her  time  was  crowded  with  duties.  Her  little  fam- 
ily gradually  became  a  large  one;  five  children 
were  born  here — Jacob,  John,  and  George,  and  two 
daughters,  Susan  and  Christina. 

The  father,  too,  had  little  time  for  visiting:  his 
children  were  all  too  young  to  be  of  any  assistance 
to  him,,  and  he  was  in  a  place  where  everything 
must  come  from  personal  exertion. 


A  CHILDHOOD.  25 

Towards  the  end  of  the  fourth  year  the  Indian 
visits  were  more  frequent,  and  his  herd  was  often 
stolen  from  him  by  night.  Then,  too,  the  braves 
were  impudent,  and  their  insults  were  often  very 
gross. 

He  was  also  largely  engaged  in  locating  lands, 
and  his  frequent  excursions  into  the  wilds  for  this 
purpose  constantly  exposed  him  to  attacks  from 
hostile  tribes,  which,  however,  he  seems  to  have 
escaped.  He  had  experienced  poverty,  and  to  fight 
that  off  had  been  hard  enough;  now  he  was  aiming 
at  wealth  and  ease  for  his  children,  and  for  all  he 
cared  the  exertion  he  had  expended  to  thwart  pov- 
erty might  be  increased  a  hundred-fold  in  the 
acquirement  of  plenty. 

The  Indian  wars  were  in  full  rage  after  he  had 
been  here  a  few  years,  and  nearer  and  nearer  to  him 
came  the  depredations  of  the  savages. 

"  But  I  will  not  give  in,"  he  said.  He  gathered 
about  him  a  numerous  company  of  wild  horses, 
reclaimed  from  savage  state  by  arduous  toil,  and 
though  these  were  often  preyed  upon  by  the  Indians, 
he  took  it  in  good  part. 

"  This  was  Indian  land,"  he  said,  "  and  they  let  it 
go  to  waste.  These  horses  they  thought  useless,  but 
I  reclaimed  them.     Now  they  claim  but  their  own." 

And  the  wife's  labors !    She  cared  for  nothing  else 


26  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

but  her  family,  and  often  left  alone  became  reckless 
as  her  husband.  She  made  deer-skin  clothes  for  her 
husband  and  boys,  and  from  the  scanty  supply  of 
wool  their  few  sheep  yielded  she  spun  and  wove 
cloth  for  herself  and  her  little  girls. 

The  land  produced  little  at  first,  because  of  their 
small  means  to  procure  the  necessary  implements  to 
cultivate  it,  and  often  their  few  fowls  were  raided  on, 
and  there  was  but  milk  for  food.  Even  that  some- 
times failed,  or  the  cows  got  astray.  In  the  latter 
case  she  would  listen  for  the  tinkling  of  the  bells, 
and  hearing  them  at  a  great  distance  in  that  im- 
mense solitude  she  would  tie  her  babies  in  bed,  her 
older  children  to  the  door-jamb,  to  keep  them  from 
being  hurt  or  straying  after  her,  and  went  herself  in 
search  of  the  cattle,  and  maybe  hours  would  elapse 
before  she  brought  them  home,  hoping  that  in  the 
interval  no  hostile  Indian  had  paid  a  visit  to  her 
cabin.  The  wolves,  too,  in  hard  winters,  when  they 
were  famished  and  desperate,  troubled  her :  often  at 
night  she  used  to  bar  the  hou^e,  and  sit  beside  the 
chimney  feeding  the  fire  with  pine  logs  to  keep  the 
beasts  at  bay,  her  children  sleeping  on  the  floor 
around  her,  her  husband  she  knew  not  where,  nor 
whether  alive  or  dead,  the  howls  of  the  creatures 
outside^  and  their  scratching  at  the  ill-made  door 
urging  her  on  to  make  a  fiercer,  hotter  fire,  and  not 
to  sleep  nor  relax  her  vigilance  a  minute. 


A  CHILDHOOD,  27 

This  was  the  home-rearing  of  Lewis  Wetzel.  It 
was  breathing  this  atmosphere  of  daring  that  made 
him  an  object  of  terror  to  the  bands  of  restless  sav- 
ages which  roamed  about  the  frontier  homes, — a 
man  without  fear  (as  he  was  known  to  be), — a  veri- 
table tower  of  strength  unto  the  infant  settlements 
springing  up  around  him. 

For  Lewis  Wetzel  came  to  be  considered  the  right 
arm  of  defense  by  many  of  the  settlers  in  the  vicin- 
ity of  Wheeling,  and  while  he  w^as  never  known  to 
inflict  any  cruelty  upon  women  or  children,  as  has 
been  charged  to  him,  he  was  revengeful,  with  a 
deathless  hatred,  upon  the  Indians,  because  he  had 
suffered  an  injury  at  their  hands,  the  sense  of 
which  left  him  not  a  moment  throughout  his  life, 
and  which  in  time  debarred  him  from  the  comforts 
and  satisfaction  of  friends  and  lovers.  He  called 
himself  an  Indian  hunter,  as  other  men  call  them- 
selves bear-hunters,  snake-hunters,  and  the  like; 
and  while  he  would  pass  over  a  sleeping  animal 
which  it  might  have  been  death  to  him  to  pass 
by,  and  was  in  his  power  to  procure  immunity  by 
killing,  he  never  forgave  a  single  Indian  for  the 
wrong  he  had  sustained  at  the  hands  of  a  few.  He 
put  reason  to  shame,  and  called  his  wrong  his 
reason. 

He  hated  Logan,  that  noble  man ;  he  hated  his 


28  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

eloquence,  and  thought  of  him  only  as  he  thought 
of  thfe  veriest  cut-throat  in  the  Delaware  or  any 
other  tribe  with  which  he  was  daily  brought  in 
contact. 

In  his  earliest  youth  he  heard  all  the  hopeful 
stories  of  Indian  kindness, — how  friendly  tribes, 
meeting  white  settlers,  took  them  to  their  camping- 
grounds,  feasted  them,  treated  them  with  all  atten- 
tion, asked  no  questions,  as  the  code  of  Indians  is, 
loaded  them  with  presents,  and  let  them  go.  He 
knew  of  the  fortitude  of  the  young  Indian  chiefs, — 
how  much  they  were  compelled  to  bear,  how  much 
torture  they  w^ere  to  undergo  before  they  were 
adjudged  competent  to  call  themselves  leaders. 
A  chief  had  once  come  to  his  father's  cabin  and 
called  the  Bible  the  talking  leaves,  and  looked  with 
awe  at  his  mother  as  she  read  aloud  the  language 
of  Christ  speaking  to  her  from  the  yellow  and 
weather-beaten  volume  with  all  the  tender  love  and 
care  the  disciples  of  old  knew.  He  knew  that  prior 
to  the  intercourse  of  the  Indians  with  the  Euro- 
peans their  weapons  had  been  bows  and  arrows, 
clubs  and  tomahawks,  and  spears  of  wood,  curiously 
ornamented  with  stones  and  shells;  but  that  after 
they  had  begun  traffic  with  the  foreigners  their 
rude  weapons  were  laid  aside  for  those  of  iron  and 
other  metals,  and  that  before  the  commencement  of 


A  CHILDHOOD.  29 

the  war  with  Philip,  though  the  trade  was  strictly 
restrained  by  the  government  of  the  Provinces,  the 
Indians  had  gotten  many  fire-arms,  and  learned 
how  to  use  them,  and  not  alone  upon  beasts  of  prey. 
He  knew  that  many  atrocities,  attributed  to  the 
wandering  tribes  were  committed  by  renegade  white 
men,  who  joined  with  the  tribes  for  pilfer  and  car- 
nage. He  knew  all  this  in  his  earliest  boyhood, 
and  had  no  hatred  for  the  Indians,  because  his 
wrong  had  not  yet  come  to  dry  up  the  fountain  of 
kindly  feeling  for  a  mysterious  race  indigenous  to 
the  land  they  claimed  for  their  own, — a  race  noble 
from  very  recklessness,  claiming  what  they  called 
theirs  by  right  of  precedence,  and  whose  wild 
blood,  like  that  of  their  bisons,  refused  to  be  tamed, 
or,  tamed,  was  not  to  be  trusted,  because  the  wont 
of  unchained  freedom  was  liable  to  vent  itself  in 
fierce  deviltry,  when  once  the  taming  process  had 
taught  it  cringing  and  deceit. 

When  his  father's  land-claims  were  becoming 
more  and  more  extended,  and  he  was  oftener  than 
ever  brought  into  contact  with  the  Indians  who 
threatened  to  become  hostile,  little  Lewis  Wetzel 
looked  on  and  listened,  amused  and  entertained. 
When  his  father  returned  from  any  of  his  excursions, 
he  would  gather  the  children  around  him,  and  tell 
them  the  comic  situations  his  prowess  had  led  him 


30  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

into ;  and  as  Indians  always  largely  figured  in  these 
narrations  the  most  august  chiefs  were  looked  upon 
by  tlie  small  folks  of  the  family  as  court  fools.  And 
no  hatred  is  ever  bestowed  upon  that  which  gives  us 
amusement;  there  might  have  been  disdain,  but 
surely  not  so  great  a  passion  as  hate. 

And  when  the  father  went  on  any  of  his  quests, 
the  children,  standing  in  the  little  enclosure,  w^ould 
remind  him  not  to  come  home  without  a  fresh 
supply  of  "  Injun  tales,"  the  fairy-stories  of  children 
of  wild  life. 

It  was  always  Lewis  who  called  loudest,  who 
ventured  farther  from  the  clearing  w4th  his  father. 
For  a  great  love  had  sprung  up  in  the  boy  for  the 
father  who  had  waited  until  he  was  born,  so  that  he 
could  go  away  from  old  troubles  and  want  and 
poverty's  trials.  It  was  Lewis  w^ho  saw  his  father 
before  the  others  did,  watching  for  him  at  a  little 
knoll  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  house.  It  was 
Lewis  who  went  to  the  Monongahela  for  fish  for  the 
expected  father,  who  often  came  a  month  later  than 
promised.  The  chair  for  father  was  always  placed 
by  Lewis;  the  hottest  potatoes  allotted  to  his  share. 
The  boy,  hearing  of  the  revoUing  colonies,  had  his 
father  explain  to  him  the  right  and  wrong  of  it  all. 

"  Oh,  if  I  could  go  I"  he  said.  "  There  are  boys  as 
young  there  ?" 


A  CHILDHOOD.  31 

Yet  when  the  father  was  eager  to  join  the  "  rebels" 
it  was  Lewis  who  cried : 

'  No,  no,  no !  Mother  and  the  children  need  you 
— I  need  you." 

When  the  father  had  once  been  to  Wheeling,  and 
came  home  with  the  startling  news  that  the  flag 
which  had  long  been  representative  of  his  Majesty's 
dominion  was  now  everywhere  wildly  torn  down  and 
dishonored,  it  was  Lewis  who  heard  it  from  the 
father  first  and  retailed  it  to  the  brothers  and  sisters 
with  the  pleasing  reflection  that  Grizzle  Heister's 
gift  long  before  had  been  dishonored. 

And  when  once  an  Indian,  claiming  a  hundred 
horses  of  his  father,  had  been  refused,  and  declared 
vengeance^  in  consequence,  it  was  Lewis  who  threw 
a  stone  for  the  indignity  offered  to  his  father  by  the 
great,  magnificent  man. 

"My  white  brother  had  houses  and  lands  and 
beasts;  why  should  he  take  the  red  man's?"  the 
Indian  asked. 

"My  red  brother  is  nfistaken,"  answered  John 
Wetzel;  "for  I  have  taken  nothing  belonging  to 
him.  These  horses  were  wild  and  unclaimed  by  my 
red  brother,  till  I  took  them  and  trained  and  tamed 
them  and  found  a  market  lor  them.  Surely,  they 
mine." 
My  white  brother  shall  have  two  hundred  wild 


32  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

horses  for  his  hundred  tame  ones,  if  he  will  but  give 
them  to  me." 

"  Why  should  my  red  brother  give  more  of  his 
property  for  what  he  claims  as  his.  Surely,  he  is 
mistaken." 

"My  white  brother  has  the  talking  hand.  I 
cannot  compete  with  his  slyness.  He  has  stolen 
our  beasts,  he  has  stolen  our  strength.  The  white 
man  has  come  and  turned  us  away  from  our  own. 
The  white  man  has  stolen  the  red  man's  land ;  the 
red  man  will  steal  the  landlord's,"  concluded  the 
baffled  Indian,  striding  away. 

"Nothing  has  been  stolen,"  cried  John  Wetzel 
after  the  retreating  figure.  "  The  red  man  threw 
away,  and  what  he  threw  away  the  white  man 
picked  up." 

The  Indian  gave  him  a  significant  look  of  scorn ; 
how  could  he  understand  this  logic  ? 

What  seemed  to  be  a  small  affair  was  the  begin- 
ning of  almost  ceaseless  warfare.  Egged  on  by  a 
few  Indians  who  had  b^en  aiding  the  British,  and 
who  had  now  deserted  and  come  to  their  old  forest 
fastnesses,  the  hitherto  peaceable  red  men  held  John 
Wetzel  and  the  other  settlers  in  a  constant  state  of 
siege.  But  it  was  only  as  play  to  the  children. 
Martin  and  Lewis  AVetzel  had  mimic  fights  between 
them,  representing  the  Indian's  and  the  white  man's 
mode  of  warfare. 


A  CHILDHOOD.  33 

The  two  boys  had  educated  themselves  in  all  the 
slyness  of  the  savages.  Martin  was  now  fifteen 
years  of  age,  Lewis  thirteen,  Jacob  eleven,  John 
nine. 

Yet  the  fun  of  the  boys  was  the  burlesque  of 
tragedies.  The  Indians  came  nearer  and  nearer, 
were  openly  hostile,  and  fired  on  any  of  the  little 
party  that  ventured  beyond  their  own  reserve. 

In  the  midst  of  the  now  frequently-recurring 
attacks,  Lewis  was  stricken  down  with  small-pox, 
and  his  brothers  and  sisters  contracted  it  from  him. 
With  this  dreadful  contagion,  with  a  scarcity  of 
provisions,  and  murderous  Indians  lying  in  wait, 
the  sum  of  human  misery  might  by  some  women 
be  said  to  be  complete.  But  John  Wetzel's  wife  was 
not  such  a  woman ;  she  nursed  her  children,  col- 
lected food  somehow,  and  helped  barricade  the  inse- 
cure cabin,  for  the  cabin  had  never  been  thoroughly 
finished,  as  with  these  early  settlers  there  were 
always  so  many  more  necessary  and  useful  things  to 
claim  the  attention  of  the  husband  and  father.  She 
had  her  cows  brought  nearer  the  hofise,  her  sheep 
tethered,  and  she  watched.  John  Wetzel  did  not 
venture  out  so  frequently  now  as  formerly,  but 
remained  at  home  and  protected  his  family.  Almost 
dail}^,  fierce,  bright  eyes  could  be  seen  lurking  in 
the  bushes,  and  the  muzzle  of  a  musket  more  than 


34  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

once  was  detected  in  the  leaves  of  a  tree.  At  night- 
time the  wolves  howled  as  ever,  but  it  was  not 
certain  that  human  voices  did  not  utter  some  of  the 
wolves'  tones,  or  that  the  scraping  at  the  door  was 
not  a  wary  Indian  looking  on  the  group  within. 

The  tragedy  was  coming  that  turned  Lewis  Wetzel 
from  peace  and  tenderness  into  an  Indian  scout; 
that  earned  for  him  the  sobriquet  of  "Hunting 
Dog ;"  that  embittered  his  life  and  left  him  little 
time  for  aught  but  revenge.  Yet  at  this  time  he 
was  a  happy  child,  just  recovering  from  a  long 
illness,  lying  securely  in  his  flock -bed  at  night,  or 
gazing  up  the  wide-mouthed  chimney  during  the 
summer  darkness,  counting  the  twinkling  stars  and 
listening  with  awe  to  the  sounds  outside,  and  him- 
self and  his  brothers  and  sisters  telling  stories  of 
bad  spirits  of  bad  Indians,  who,  debarred  the  pleas- 
ures of  the  happy  hunting-ground,  remained  upon 
the  earth  cruelly  to  keep  little  white  children  wide 
awake,  and,  shining  like  pretty,  quivering  lights,  to 
lead  them  f^om  their  homes  into  deep  bogs  and 
quagmires. 


THE  BEAR.  35 


CHAPTER  HI. 

THE   BEAR. 

O  URELY,  at  this  time,  John  Wetzel,  with  all  his 
bravery,  must  in  his  heart  have  regretted  that 
he  had  always  disdained  the  usual  precaution  of 
settlers, — that  of  placing  his  family  in  one  of  the 
stations  or  forts,  instead  of  carrying  them  into  the 
thick  of  dangers  that  threatened  them  on  all  sides 
w^hen  he  was  absent  from  them.  During  these 
absences,  towards  the  last,  he  constantly  found  that 
he  w^as  fearing  for  their  safety,  yet  the  next  minute 
trying  to  laugh  away  his  fear  and  to  persuade  him- 
self that  they  were  safe,  because  of  the  very  lack  of 
precaution  to  protect  them,  knowing  that  the  red  foe 
sought  their  enemies,  expecting  to  find  them  pro- 
tected by  the  mass,  and  not  in  exposed,  isolated 
cases ;  for  the  Indians  had  hitherto  felt  assured  that 
those  brave  enough  to  be  fearless  were  friends. 
Though  at  present  he  remained  more  than  ever  in 
his  clearing,  yet  there  were  times  when  he  must  be 
away.  In  the  fly  season,  his  horses,  maddened  by 
the  stings  of  the  gauzy-winged  creatures,  broke  from 


36  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

their  fastenings  and  scampered  througli  the  high 
grasses  and  took  to  the  Monongahela.  The  water 
offered  no  obstacle  whatever  to  them ;  they  swam 
away,  threatened  every  minute  with  being  sca-ttered 
and  the  band  broken  and  dismayed.  He  was  often 
away  for  days  on  the  mission  of  gathering  the  half- 
broken  beasts  together  again.  Then  he  had  his 
sheep  and  cows  to  look  after,  and  on  account  of  the 
loose  sheds  he  had  erected  for  them,  and  which  he 
now  had  no  time  to  strengthen,  there  was  always  a 
likelihood  of  their  straying  away.  Again,  he  burned 
for  news  as  to  the  progress  of  the  fight  of  the  people 
against  all  England,  and  he  would  hurry  to  the 
settlements  for  tidings.  The  country  in  revolt, 
bands  of  desperadoes  creating  havoc  all  around 
him,  his  little  clearing  and  hut  had  miraculously 
escaped  visitation.  Yet  every  day  made  him  more 
apprehensive  for  its  safety,  and  his  fearded  him  into 
the  recklessness  of  seeking  in  the  far  settlements  for 
news,  leaving  his  wife  and  children  unprotected  till 
his  return. 

"  They  are  in  God's  hand,"  he  would  say,  "  whether 
I  am  near  or  far." 

His  wife  might  have  pleaded  now  for  removal,  for 
the  time  being,  to.  a  settlement;  but  she  knew  little 
or  nothing  of  what  was  going  on  so  near  home;  and, 
strange  as  it  may  appear,  so  close  to  scenes  of  world- 


THE  BEAR,  87 

wide  import,  she  was  as  far  away  from  them  in 
thought  as  though  they  had  not  been.  She  had  her 
home  to  think  of;  that  was  enough  for  her.  She 
had  to  try  and  instill  her  little  knowledge  into  the 
minds  of  her  children,  to  teach  them  to  read  from 
the  old  Bible,  and  to  tell  them  that  the  wide-rolling 
country  around  them  did  not  constitute  all  of  the 
world.  Her  husband  had  always  protected  her,  and 
now  he  told  her  little  or  nothing  of  wdiat  he  heard 
at  the  forts  or  settlements.  It  boded  only  for  her 
good.  However,  when  he  went  away  now,  he  would 
caution  Martin  to  keep  a  wary  eye  on  the  place. 

"Why  should  you  caution  him  now  more  than 
formerly  ?"  his  wife  would  ask. 

"  Because  Martin  is  fifteen  years  old  now,"  replied 
her  husband ;  "  almost  a  man,  and  he  should  know 
some  of  a  man's  responsibilities.  Suppose  anything 
should  happen  to  me,  who  would  be  left  but  Martin 
to  look  after  things  ?" 

"  Oh,  husband !"  cried  the  wife,  alarmed  at  such  a 
possibility. 

"  But  there  is  the  possibility,"  he  said.  "  And  all 
the  same,  Martin  must  look  after  the  affairs  at  home 
now  when  I  am  called  away.  When  any  danger 
arises " 

"  What  danger  can  there  be  ?"  she  asked. 

He  dared  not  tell  her.     But  w^hen  he  was  on  his 
4 


38  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

way  home  he  would  look,  his  heart  in  his  throat, 
for  the  first  sign  of  life  and  peace.  And  that  first 
sign  would  usually  be  Lewis  on  the  knoll  waiting 
for  him.  Thus  until  the  close  of  the  summer  of 
1777.  The  woods  around  were  beginning  to  soften 
into  mellow  tints,  the  songs  of  birds  were  fewer,  the 
rich,  aromatic  haze  of  dying  summer  was  over  all 
thq  landscape  like  a  soft,  iridescent  veil.  The  corn 
stubble  glistened  with  dew  of  early  morning,  and 
the  crickets  were  bold  and  made  music  pleasant  to 
the  peaceful  housewife,  as  she  went  about  her  multi- 
farious duties. 

It  was  the  last  part  of  August.  One  day  John 
Wetzel  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Wheeling  for 
news.  He  had  not  been  away  from  home  for  a 
month,  and  he  was  anxious  to  know  what  was 
going  on  in  the  outer  world  away  from  his  little 
cabin,  and  how  the  fight  was  going,  if  for  the 
British  or  the  colonists. 

A  herdsman  after  a  stray  flock  had  come  to  the 
cabin  one  night  lately  and  told  him  that  there  were 
rumors  that  the  fight  promised  to  be  a  long  one, 
and  that  eventually  all  the  rebelling  colonists  would 
be  shot  down  by  his  Majesty's  troops,  who  were  now 
in  New  York  preparing  for  a  general  wi ping-out  of 
the  whole  system  and  the  organization  of  a  new. 

The  herdsman  had  also  told  how  the  report  ran 


THE  BEAR.  39 

that  the  Indians  had  been  called  in  by  the  British 
in  this  work  of  extermination,  first  as  guides  in  the 
wild  parts  of  the  country,  then  as  partisans. 

This  last  piece  of  startling  news  determined  John 
AYetzel :  he  knew  what  the  war  would  be  if  the 
hostile  Indians  took  part  in  it;  he  must  know  more. 

While  the  herdsman  was  talking,  he  looked  over 
to  his  wife.  No,  she  had  not  heard.  She  was  busy 
with  the  children  and  the  Bible.  The  little  group 
was  all  about  her  knees  learning  the  wondrous  story 
of  the  wars  of  old,  of  King  David,  of  wise  Solomon, 
and  the  brave  women  of  the  times. 

The  soughing  of  the  wind  outside  w^as  very  pleas- 
ant to  listen  to,  and  far  to  the  north  there  w^as  a 
faint  crystalline  line  of  light  which  proclaimed  the 
advent  of  cooler  weather, — the  northern  lights,  the 
aurora  borealis. 

"  Wife,"  he  said  suddenly,  "  I  think  I  will  take  a 
run  up  to  Wheeling  the  coming  week." 

"  Very  well,"  was  all  she  answered,  and  went  on 
with  the  old  stories. 

So  she  knew  nothing  Of  the  herdsman's  talk. 

In  the  following  week  John  Wetzel  went  away. 

His  eyes  were  about  him  looking  inquisitively  at 
every  tree,  every  clump  of  bushes.  But  all  was  as 
usual. 

He  was  away  two  days. 


40  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

In  those  two  days  he  had  found  ample  corrobora- 
tion of  the  herdsman's  story,  and  his  face  was  set 
and  stern  as  he  wended  his  way  towards  his  cabin. 

In  that  lonely  ride  home  undoubtedly  he  made 
up  his  mind  that  now  at  last  he  must  take  his 
family  somewhere  for  more  protection  than  he  could 
afford  them.  Filled  with  the  tales  of  horror  he  had 
heard  at  Wheeling,  he  left  the  place,  full  of  fear  for 
his  family.  Yet  as  he  plodded  along  on  his  horse 
and  got  farther  into  the  country,  and  saw  all  nature 
at  peace,  not  a  sign  of  change,  his  fears  insensibly 
grew  weaker. 

When  he  came  to  his  clearing  and  saw  afar  off 
his  little  son  on  the  green  knoll,  he  laughed  at  his 
weak  dread.  His  wife  was  at  the  door  when  he 
came  up. 

"Well,"  he  said  cheerfully,  "back  again.  No 
news,  I  suppose  ?" 

"  Why,  yes,"  she  answered ;  "old  Crumply  over- 
turned the  milk-pail  last  evening,  and  the  speckled 
hen  was  caught  in  the  briars." 

"Too  bad,"  he  rejoined. 

"Yes,"  she  went  on,  "  and  that  old  bear  that  came 
in  last  winter  and  went  up  to  the  fire  and  warmed 
himself,  and  you  w^ould  not  have  him  turned  out — 
well,  he's  been  here  again  this  morning,  and  he  was 
in  the  bushes  outside  the  cow-shed,  his  old  nose 
poked  here  and  there." 


THE  BEAR.  41 

"  I  don't  think  lie  looked  like  the  old  bear,  but  he 
was  the  same  color,"  spoke  up  Lewis. 

So  the  news  was  chronicled. 

And  all  that  came  of  it  was  that  John  Wetzel 
determined  to  kill  the  bear  in  order  to  keep  him 
from  becoming  too  familiar. 

"  Give  me  his  skin,"  said  Martin. 

But  Lewis  was  looking  out  towards  the  bushes 
and  said  iiothing. 

"  Hang  it !"  exclaimed  the  father  all  at  once,  "what 
do  you  think  I've  forgotten  to  get  at  Wheeling?" 

"  Your  head  ?"  asked  his  wife. 

"Something  as  important — powder.  The  first 
time  I  ever  did  such  a  thing.  The  news  there  clean 
upset  me " 

"What  news?" 

"  iS'ews !  Oh,  nothing  much.  I  must  start  again 
to-morrow." 

"Then,  father,  take  the  girls  with  you,  and  let 
them  stay  with  Tom  Madison's  folks.  There's  Berta 
Rosencranz,  a  likely  girl,  would  like  to  have  them, 
I'm  sure.  You  know  you've  always  promised  to 
take  them." 

"  Can  you  have  them  ready  in  time?" 

"  Ready !  Listen  to  him,  now.  Come,  boys,  help 
get  this  carpet-bag  filled." 

In  the  small  cabin  all  was  excitement  to  get  tho 


42  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

little  ones  ready  for  the  exhilarating  trip.  There 
was  bread  to  bake,  so  that  they  might  have  some 
loaves,  and  long  light  spongy  cakes  to  eat  on  the 
way,  and  a  bottle  of  milk  was  to  be  tied  around  the 
neck  of  each. 

Next  morning  the  father  and  the  little  girls  went 
away, — at  the  last  minute  little  John  crying  so  hard 
to  go  with  them  that  he  was  packed  off  too. 

It  was  lonely  in  the  cabin  without  them,  and 
Martin  wandered  off  w^ith  his  gun.  But  Lewis 
stayed. 

"Why  don't  you  go  with  your  brother?"  asked 
their  mother  of  him. 

"  I  don't  want  to  go,"  he  answered. 

"  The  first  time  you  ever  felt  that  w^ay.  Are  you 
sick  ?"  she  asked. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  and  went  and  sat  outside  the 
door,  his  face  towards  the  clump  of  bushes.  Nearly 
all  day  he  sat  there.  The  next  morning  he  took  up 
his  post  there  again. 

"  He's  fretting  for  father,"  commented  his  mother, 
watching  him. 

Towards  sundown  John  Wetzel,  with  his  powder, 
came  up  to  the  door. 

"I  missed  you  from  the  knoll,  Lewis,  lad,"  he 
said.     The  mother  made  her  explanation. 

"  I  wasn't  fretting  about  father,"  cried  Lewis,  "  for 


THE  BEAR.  43 

father's  brave.  I  only  fret  about  the  weak  ones, — 
the  girls." 

"  Oh,  ho !  it  was  the  girls,  was  it  ?" 

And  Lewis  made  no  answer. 

"And  now  how  is  the  bear?"  asked  the  father, 
laying  down  his  powder. 

"  I  watched  for  him,"  said  Martin,  "  but  I  didn't 
get  a  chance  at  him." 

"  A  chance !" 

"  Father,  he  dodged  me  when  he  saw  me." 

"  That's  a  queer  bear,"  said  John  Wetzel. 

"  I  don't  think  it  is  a  bear,"  said  Lewis,  speaking 
for  the  first  time. 

"  What  do  you  think  it  is,  old  man  ?"  asked  his 
father  laughing.  "  A  whale,  maybe  ?  Did  you  see 
his  skin  ?" 

"  It's  a  bear-skin,"  replied  the  boy. 

"  A  bear-skin  carries  a  bear,"  said  the  father. 

"  I  don't  think  it's  a  bear,"  reiterated  Lewis. 

"  What  do  you  think  it  is,  then  ?"      . 

"An  Indian,  with  the  bear's  skin." 

"  Lewis  !"  cried  his  mother  shrilly,  "  what  do  you 
mean  by  such  nonsense  ?  An  Indian,  indeed  !  If 
it's  an  Indian,  why  should  he  hide  out  there,  you 
foolish  boy?" 

"  He  saw  me  watching  him." 

"You're  dreaming,"  said  his  mother.  But  the 
father  said  nothing. 


44  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

John  Wetzel,  when  night  settled  down  dimmer 
and  darker,  fastened  the  door  securely,  and  for  the 
first  time  in  many  months.    His  wife  was  astonished 
at  his  timidity,  and  laughed  at  him. 
"  And  only  a  Lear,"  she  said. 

She  took  up  her  station  beside  the  fire,  which  felt 
very  comfortable  this  chilly  evening.  Her  husband 
sat  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  fire,  shading  his  face 
with  his  hand.  The  boys  gathered  about  their 
mother,  and  soon  the  quaint  old  story  of  the  wars 
of  the  Bible  sounded  through  the  place.  All  was 
peace  and  gentleness. 

"  Hark  !"  said  the  father  once. 
"What  is  it?"  asked  his  wife  pausing,  with  her 
finger  on  the  word  at  which  she  had  stopped. 

"  Go  on,"  he  said ;  "  it  was  only  a  rustling  out- 
side." 

"Why,  John,"  she  cried  merrily,  "you  are  as 
nervous  as  a  cat.  What  is  the  matter  with  you? 
If  this  comes  of  going  to  the  settlements,  you'd 
better  remain  at  home." 

She  took  up  her  reading  once  more.  For  perhaps 
fifteen  minutes  she  read  aloud,  the  light  of  the 
hre  shining  on  the  page  before  her,  and  making 
huge  sliadows  in  the  place,  when  an  exclamation 
from  Lewis  attracted  her.  She  looked  up ;  her 
husband  had  gone  from  the  fire-place,  and  was 
over  against  the  door,  his  eye  at  a  knot-hole  there. 


THE  BEAR.  45 

"Why,  John,"  she  began. 

"  Hush !"  he  whispered. 

There  was  a  rustling  outside  the  door,  and  a  pres- 
sure against  it.     She  laughed. 

"  It's  the  old  bear,"  she  said,  "  and  you  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself  to  be  thus  easily  scared." 

"  Come  here,"  he  said. 

She  went  to  him,  and,  guided  by  him,  placed  her 
eye  to  the  knot-hole.  Outside,  one  by  one,  tall 
shadows  passed  by  the  door.  There  must  have  been 
twenty-five  shadows.  Each  shadow  as  it  went  along 
pressed  softly  up  to  the  door,  then  joined  the  other 
shadows  collected  a  little  apart  from  the  house  in  an 
ominous  company. 

"What  is  it?"  she  whispered,  aw^e  in  her  voice. 

"  Indians !"  he  whispered  in  reply. 

"  But  why  dp  they  come  thus  ?" 

"Wait!" 

They  had  not  long  to  w^ait.  The  shadows  again 
separated,  and  went  to  the  back  of  the  cabin.  There 
came  a  wierd,  soft  tramp  in  the  night,  a  soft  tramp 
that  carried  a  grim  purpose  with  it.  There  came  a 
burst  at  the  door,  and  a  plank  gave  way.  Through 
the  opening  made  thus  John  Wetzel  fired  his  gun. 
There  was  a  shriek  outside. 

"What  have  you  done?"  wailed  his  wife,  wring- 
ing her  hands. 


46  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"Murder!"  he  said,  "and  they  will  do  more." 

She  ran  back  to  her  boys,  and  clasped  them  to 
her,  wildly  praying  to  the  Supreme  Power  to  guard 
them  from  all  harm.  She  looked  at  her  husband ; 
he  was  white  as  death. 

"  You  cannot  hold  out  against  them,"  she  said. 

"  No,"  he  answered. 

"  Then  w^hy  not  ask  them  what  they  want  ?" 

"  Look !" 

There  was  a  thin  streak  of  yellow  light  shining 
in  from  the  night  outside,  through  the  opening  left 
by  the  shattered  plank.  Her  look  told  her  every- 
thing. 

"  Fire !"  whispered  John  Wetzel. 

"They  are  never  going  to  burn  us!"  cried  the 
agonized  woman. 

There  was  a  rasping  sound  all  around  the  cabin, 
as  the  silent  fiends  outside  piled  up  the  branches 
from  the  dry  trees  into  a  mountain  over  the  little 
cabin.  Then  there  came  a  tender  crackling;  then 
fifty  thin  threads  of  flame  sprang  up.  Then  for  the 
first  time  there  was  a  sound  of  voices  outside :  a 
shout  of  joy.  Once  again  John  Wetzel's  bullet  sped 
on  its  way.  Even  once  more ;  and  the  place  w^as  as 
though  filled  with  a  great  sun,  so  light  the  flames 
were.  A  great  blazing  log  tumbled  in  on  the  floor ; 
the  roof  was  a  mass  of  tinder.     The  place  was 


THE  BEAB.  47 

scorching  hot,  and  outside,  joining  with  the  shouts 
of  the  Indians,  came  the  frightened  bellowing  of 
liberated  cattle  and  the  bleating  of  scurrying  sheep; 
while  the  quick  stamps  on  the  ground  told  of 
loosened  half- wild  horses  making  for  the  river. 

The  mother  had  torn  a  blanket  from  the  bed  and 
thrown  it  over  the  boys  to  protect  them  from  the 
flames.  The  smoke  filling  the  place  blinded  her. 
She  could  no  longer  see  her  husband.  A  part  of 
the  roof  fell  in,  and  with  it  came  a  crowd  of  yelling 
savages. 

"  John !  John  !"  she  shrieked,  and  hurried  towards 
the  place  where  she  thought  he  must  be.  She  was 
jostled  against  by  fighting  Indians,  who  were  now 
stamping  on  the  fire  to  put  it  out.  She  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  husband  in  the  arms  of  three  or  four 
painted  savages,  hurried  from  the  cabin  struggling 
for  his  life.     Shrieking,  she  was  after  him. 

She  had  almost  touched  him,  when  a  gleam  of 
something  bright  blinded  her, — a  tomahawk  in  the 
hands  of  a  fierce  brute  over  her  husband's  head. 

There  was  a  quick  movement  of  the  Indian's 
hand,  a  whoop  from  his  lips  as  the  instrument 
descended  with  a  dull  thud  and  crashed  through 
the  skull  of  John  Wetzel.  '  Then  she  knew  no  more. 

The  early  morning  light  brought  its  dew  and 
songs  of  birds. 


\ 


48  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  wife  and  mother  had  fallen  in  the  long  rank 
grass  and  been  completely  hidden  from  her  would- 
be  murderers.    She  raised  herself  and  looked  around. 

There  was  the  mouldering  cabin.  That  was  all. 
She  knew  that  her  husband  was  killed,  she  had  seen 
the  deed  done. 

She  thought  her  children  were  burned  up  with 
the  cabin. 

Groaning  in  her  agony,  she  determined  to  make 
her  way  to  Wheeling,  where  her  other  children 
were.  Fierce  and  weak,  clutching  her  arms,  she 
fled  on.  On  her  way  stray  cattle  came  and  looked 
at  her;  cows  begging  her  only  to  stop  and  milk 
them.  Wild-eyed  horses  gazed  at  her,  their  manes 
blowing  in  the  morning  breeze,  and  dumbl}^  asking 
her  where  was  the  corn  they  had  so  long  been  used 
to  of  mornings.  She  knew  these  were  a  part  of  her 
home,  now  hers  no  longer.  Stumbling  on,  looking 
straight  before  her,  she  made  her  way,  a  widow  with 
three  children  less  than  she  had  had  last  night,  into 
the  fort  at  Wheeling,  where  she  fell  unconscious, 
moaning  unintelligibly. 


THE  OATH.  49 


CHAPTER  IV. 

THE   OATH. 

"DUT  the  boys  had  not  been  murdered,  as  their 
mother's  despair  had  suggested  to  her.  Martin, 
the  eldest,  in  the  earliest  moment  of  the  assault  had 
dropped  from  a  window  and  flown  across  the  lurid 
meadow,  the  yells  of  the  savages  growing  fainter 
and  fainter  as  he  sped  along,  his  mother's  cries  the 
last  sound  that  rang  in  his  ears.  In  the  morning 
he  crept  back  to  the  scene  of  ruin  and  desolation, 
only  to  send  his  voice  to  heaven  for  his  lost  or 
slaughtered  kindred. 

But  the  two  younger  boys  had  been  discovered  by 
the  Indians  beneath  the  blanket  in  the  burning  hut, 
where  Lewis  had  been  struck  in  the  breast  by  a 
bullet  which  tore  away  a  piece  of  the  bone. 

The  conquerers  spared  these  boys  because  of 
their  extreme  youth,  and  drove  them  before  the 
band  across  the  country,  captives. 

On  the  way,  by  the  light  from  his  burning  home, 
Lewis,  looking  down,  saw  in  the  crushed  and 
trampled  grass  the  mutilated  body  of  his  father. 


50  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  boy  stopped  abruptly,  and  seemed  turned  to 
stone. 

He  looked  around,  and  in  the  red  light  as  far  as 
his  eye  could  reach  rolled  the  boundless  prairie, 
with  groups  of  beasts  huddled  close  together,  gazing 
with  wild,  affrighted  eyes  upon  the  strange  light. 
Great  birds  swept  by  towards  the  burning  build- 
ing, w^heeled  about  it  afar  off,  the  circles  eddying 
nearer  to  the  flame,  nearer  and  nearer  still,  until, 
with  shrill  cries,  they  darted  into  the  heart  of 
the  flame,  and  perished  there.  There  was  a  soft 
crackling  in  the  grass,  and  spots  of  fire  leaped  up 
here  and  there.  The  moon  looked  red  and  sullen 
through  the  smoke.  That  was  what  the  bo^  saw. 
His  brother  at  his  side  was  bitterly  weeping  and 
cowering  before  their  red  enslavers.  But  Lewis 
Wetzel  shed  no  tear,  uttered  no  groan. 

"  Did  you  see  father,  there' in  the  grass?"  wept  his 
brother. 

There  was  no  reply. 

"  Father  is  dead  !"  wept  his  brother. 

Still  there  was  no  reply  to  his  wailing.  Yet  in 
that  instant  of  horrid  sight  there  had  come  to  the 
silent  boy  the  bitter  hatred  that  never  left  liim 
thereafter, — something  that  had  meant  life  and 
being  to  him  went  from  him  into  the  dead  body  of 
his  father,  as  dead  as  that  body.    A  hush  came  upon 


THE  OATH.  61 

him  that  left  its  impression  forever  after  in  his  face. 
The  love  he  bore  the  murdered  man  lived  with  ten- 
fold intensity,  and  deadened  every  other  natural  feel- 
ing. But  that  love,  having  nothing  now  on  which  to 
expend  its  w^ealth  in  fond  endearments  and  happy 
hopes,  turned  immediately  it  knew  the  outrage 
done  it  into  irrevocable  hatred  against  the  slayers 
and  their  whole  kind, — a  fiendish  perfection  of 
hatred  that  bordered  closely  upon  madness,  but 
w^hich  had  not  a  grain  of  madness  in  it,  any  more 
than  madness  may  be  said  to  actuate  any  feeling  of 
retaliation  for  wrongfully-inflicted  suffering.  In 
the  simple  and  untutored  communities,  however, 
through  which  the  scout  afterwards  moved,  he  was 
often  said  to  be  not  quite  sane. 

"White  boys  hurry!"  said  the  tormentors  that 
night  of  the  murder. 

A  brawny  chief  came  up  and  caught  Lewis  by 
his  hair  and  threw  him  forward.  The  boy  was 
only  convalescent  from  small-pox,  and  the  wound 
in  his  breast  bled  profusely. 

"White  boy  bleeds  easy,"  said  the  chief;  "his 
blood  is  thin,"  and  gave  the  lad  another  thrust 
forward.  Still  there  was  no  wincing,  nor  a  sound 
of  complaint.  "  Good  !"  cried  the  chief,  with  a  sort 
of  brute  admiration.  "  White  boy  no  coward.  lie 
will  be  chief  yet.  If  he  will  not  be  chief,  he  will 
roast." 


52  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  Indians,  though  as  a  race  peculiarly  defi- 
cient in  the  comic  element,  and  to  a  degree  blind  to 
the  ludicrous,  laughed  at  this  sally  of  their  chief, 
and  further  sought  to  provoke  the  boy  in  order  to 
test  his  endurance.  They  received  no  notice  'for 
their  manoeuvres,  although  one  of  them  caught  up 
little  Jacob  and  pretended  to  tomahawk  him. 

They  then  tied  the  arms  of  the  boys  with  thongs 
drawn  so  tightly  as  to  cause  exquisite  pain.  The 
smaller  boy  wept  in  agony;  his  brother  never 
winced.  As  a  new  variety  of  sport,  the  tw^o  boys 
were  then  bound  about  the  knees,  and,  prodded 
from  behind,  were  forced  into  a  sort  of  jog-trot 
inexpressibly  wearisome.  To  this  latter  torture 
the  younger  boy  obeyed  and  trotted  on  as  he  saw 
the  man  aiming  blows  at  him.  But  the  elder  did 
not  accelerate  his  pace  from  the  tired  march  they 
had  been  reduced  to,  and  every  effort  to  harass  him 
was  useless  if  intended  to  cause  him  to  act  as  his 
brother  did.  He  was  switched,  and  stinging  blow^s 
fell  unheeded  on  his  limbs :  a  knife  w^as  brandished 
before  his  eyes,  and  he  did  not  wince ;  it  is  doubtful 
if  he  ever  saw  the  knife  meant  to  menace  him. 

It  was  not  so  much  bravery  in  the  lad  that  made 
hira  callous  to  all  this:  the  shock  of  his  father's 
death  turned  his  nerves  to  iron.  While  the  Indians 
admired  his  stoic  bearing,  the  hatred  for  them 
almost  burst  his  breast. 


THE  OATH.  53 

But  the  Indians  grew  tired  of  their  sport,  and 
made  preparations  for  going  forward. 

"They're  taking  us  from  home,"  wailed  little 
Jacob,  clinging  to  his  brother,  and  thus  impeding 
their  movements. 

A  blow  from  a  brave  separated  the  boys.  Then, 
with  hits  and  thrusts,  they  were  driven  on.  Day 
came,  grew  to  meridian,  declined,  and  nothing  was 
given  the  boys  to  stay  the  pangs  of  hunger.  Night, 
and  another  day,  and  their  mouths  were  parched, 
their  limbs  faint  and  trembling. 

At  night  Lewis  Wetzel  crouched  upon  the  hard, 
bare  earth,  for  they  were  not  allowed  a  blanket,  and 
folded  his  brother  in  his  arms  and  thus  stifled  the 
trembling,  caused  as  much  by  weakness  and  even 
fear  as  by  the  cold  dews  dripping  through  the  trees 
upon  their  defenseless  heads.  The  younger  boy  slept 
at  last,  secure  in  the  fold  of  his  boy  protector ;  but 
Lewis  never  closed  his  eyes,  but  crouched  there 
watching  the  guard  that  every  now  and  then  threw 
a  glance  towards  the  two  youthful  captives  who 
rested  just  beyond  the  fire,  but  too  far  removed  from 
it  to  feel  any  of  its  warmth. 

"  Courage !  courage !"  Lewis  Wetzel  was  heard 
to  whisper;  but  whether  the  courage  was  invoked 
for  himself  or  his  brother  that  brother  who  heard 
did  not  know. 


54  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

For  two  days  after  their  capture  the  red-skins 
drove  the  boys  along  like  stolen  sheep,  waving  their 
murderous  weapons  over  their  heads,  and  yelling 
in  their  ears,  delighted  when  they  saw  a  sign  of 
blanching  and  wavering.  They  compelled  the  chil- 
dren to  sit  close  to  them  while  they  eat  and  drank, 
and  offered  nothing  to  the  captives.  Then  from 
feasting  they  would  arise  and  drive  the  boys  on, 
prodding  them  with  sticks  if  they  showed  signs  of 
weariness.  And  so  on  till  they  were  no  longer  in 
sight  "of  the  familiar  homely  clearing,  and  were 
sadly  exhausted,  footsore,  tired,  and  hungry.  They 
received  kicks  and  cuffs  for  any  approach  to  tardi- 
ness, up  to  the  very  last,  and  at  every  moment  they 
expected  death.  But  such  was  not  to  be  the  case : 
death  was  not  for  them  in  that  guise.  The  second 
night  after  the  murder  of  John  Wetzel  the  Indians 
sighted  the  Big  Lick,  about  twenty  miles  from  the 
river,  in  what  is  now  Ohio,  and  upon  McMahon's 
Creek.  Here  they  encamped,  the  youthfulness  of 
the  boys  and  their  utterly  spent  condition  causing 
them  to  relax  their  usual  vigilance  concerning 
prisoners. 

"White  boys  hungry?''  they  asked,  holding  tempt- 
ing morsels  of  deer's  flesh  before  the  famished  chil- 
dren's eyes.     "  White  bo3's'  father  lost  his  hair,  eli  ?" 

Jacob  was  crying  from  hunger  and  fright;   but 


THE  OATH.  55 

Lewis  paid  no  attention  to  physical  want,  as  he 
never  did  thereafter,  but  stood  there  white  and 
nerveless. 

Tlie  Indians  made  their  fire  bright  after  they  had 
eaten  their  fill,  and  sat  down  and  smoked  and 
talked  far  into  the  night.  Then  they  wrapped 
themselves  in  their  blankets,  and  stretched  them- 
selves on  the  ground.  The  sentinels  paced  up  and 
down  for  a  little  while,  scarcely  vouchsafing  a 
glance  towards  the  two  pale,  faint  boys  clinging 
to  each  other  outside  the  ashes  of  the  fire,  and 
hemmed  in  by  the  blanketed  sleeping  warriors, 
now  snoring.  Then  these  w^atchers  would  pause 
once  in  a  while,  and  glance  over  towards  their 
somnolent  brethren  by  the  warm  ashes  that  dissi- 
pated the  chilly  dews  falling  through  the  woods. 

Wetzel,  to  his  last  day,  always  remembered  how 
he  felt  watching  the  sleeping  Indians,  many  of 
whom  had  removed  their  moccasins  and  thrust 
their  feet  into  the  ashes,  lying  there  in  sensuous 
ease,  while  two  forlorn  children  crouched  together 
on  the  ground  far  away  from  the  fire's  generous 
heat,  and  exhausted,  bewildered,  w^ounded.  The 
watchers,  from  looking  at  the  evidences  of  the  ease 
they  coveted,  paced  irregularly  their  rounds.  Then 
they  sat  upon  the  ground  for  a  little  while.  Then 
two  got  together  and  spoke  a  word  now  and  then. 


56  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  fire  grew  less,  and  sunk  away  into  smouldering 
ashes;  the  sounds  in  the  midnight  wood  were  con- 
ducive to  easy  slumber. 

One  of  the  guards  lazily  watching  the  boys  saw 
the  bright  light  in  Lewis  Wetzel's  eyes,  and  came 
over  to  him  frowning. 

"  White  boy  sleep  ?"  he  asked. 

He  received  no  reply. 

*' White  boy  better  go  sleep,"  he  said  further. 
Then  still  seeing  the  eyes  open,  he  struck  the  boy  in 
the  face  as  a  reminder. 

"Now  sleep,"  he  said;  "a  Indian  brave  cut  out 
the  white  boy's  eyes  and  make  him  sleep." 

This  remedy  for  insomnia  seemed  to  be  under- 
stood by  the  boy,  for  he  diU  close  his  eyes,  he  did  to 
all  appearances  sleep  as  his  brother  was  sleeping 
beside  him. 

At  last  the  watchers,  from  sitting  on  the  ground, 
rolled  heavily  over,  one  by  one,  and  slept  with  the 
others. 

When  they  had  lain  there  a  few  minutes,  with  no 
signs  of  awaking,  Lewis  Wetzel  whispered  into  the 
ear  of  his  brother : 

"  Get  up  ;  we  w^ill  go  home." 

"  There  is  no  home,"  whimpered  the  little  brother. 

"  Get  up ;  wo  will  find  home,"  fiercely  said  Lewis, 
in  so  strange  a  tone  that  his  brother  obeyed  him 
unquestioningly.  — . 


THE  OATH.  57 

They  threaded  their  way  between  the  sleeping 
Indians,  guided  by  the  glow  of  the  bot  ashes. 
Leaves  crumpled  under  their  feet,  and  they  paused. 
No,  no  one  was  aroused.  A  bulky  brave  lay 
directly  in  their  path. 

This  brave  at  first  was  a  stumbling-block  to  the 
two  boys.  He  was  broad,  his  arms  were  stretched 
out  beside  him ;  the  slightest  touch  might  wake 
him.  Even  as  they  stood  there,  the  boys  saw  this 
brave  struck  on  the  face  by  a  falling  leaf,  and  he 
stirred  uneasily,  without,  however,  opening  his  eyes. 
They  would  not  go  back,  they. dared  not  go  forward. 
Minutes  seemed  to  elapse,  and  still  they  stood  there, 
that  sleeping  form  before  them,  their  minds  strained 
to  the  last  point,  and  almost  beyond  reasoning.  At 
last,  with  a  pulling  of  himself  together,  and  a  stern 
setting  of  his  upper  teeth  in  his  lower  lip : 

"  Over,"  whispered  Lewis  Wetzel,  and  he  lifted  his 
brother  sheer  across  the  body,  stumbling  after  him. 
There  was  yet  an  outer  circle  of  Indians  to  be 
crossed.  This  was  done  boldly,  and  the  free  land 
lay  before  them,  and  they  had  but  to  choose  a  way. 
They  went  a  few  hundred  yards,  when  their  wounded 
feet  made  them  pause  and.  sit  upon  a  log.  Their 
shoes  were  gone. 

'•  We  cannot  go,"  said  the  youngef  brother,  with 
age's  desperation. 


68  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Not  barefooted,"  replied  Lewis ;  "  we  must  have 
moccasins." 

"  Where  will  we  get  them  ?" 

"  You  stay  here,  and  I  will  get  them,"  said  Lewis, 
in  that  same  tone  of  voice  that  must  be  obeyed. 

He  went  back  to  the  camp-fire,  crossing  sleeping 
body  after  sleeping  body.  He  found  the  moccasins 
set  before  the  hot  ashes  to  dry.  He  took  two  pairs, 
and  came  with  them  back  to  his  brother. 

"Here,"  he  said,  and  knelt  down  in  the  dark- 
ness and  fitted  the  moccasins  upon  the  younger  boy's 
feet. 

They  sat  a  little  while  longer  on  the  log.  Priva- 
tion seemed  to  have  dwarfed  the  energy  even  in  so 
young  children,  and  now  that  they  sav/  a  way  out 
of  captivity,  the  impulse  to  accept  it  seemed  gone. 
At  last  the  older  boy  aroused  himself  from  the 
state  of  apathy  they  had  fallen  into. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  don't  move.  Stay  here  till  I 
come  back." 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?" 

"We  need  protection,  little  Jacob." 

"  V/here  arc  you  going  ? — why  do  you  leave  me 
here  alone  ?"' 

"  We  must  have  a  gun,"  he  said,  and  disappeared 
in  the  darkness. 

As  in  many  other  hearts  brought  to  desolation, 


THE  OATH.  59 

the  thought  of  a  Supreme  Being  seems  further 
removed  than  mortal  revenge,  and  what  mortal  can 
do  is  of  more  moment  than  the  power  of  Omnipo- 
tence; so  was  it  with  this  boy  when  he  left  his 
brother,  who  depended  upon  him,  alone  in  the 
darkness  and  the  night.  There  flashed  over  him 
the  stories  he  had  heard  his  mother  read  from  the 
Bible, — the  stories  of  a  just  and  all-powerful  God. 
He  thought  of  the  prayer  for  protection  he  had 
early  learned.     Then : 

"  No  !"  he  said  bitterly;  "I  will  not  pray.  Myself 
must  do  now." 

The  meaning  of  desolation,  and  the  one  power 
that  delivers  from  it,  was  to  come  later  in  his  life. 

Again  did  he  make  his  way  back  to  the  camp-fire. 
There  was  a  musket  lying  beside  one  of  the  sleepers, 
and  he  stooped  and  picked  it  up,  and  prepared  to 
move  off.  The  sleeper  stirred,  and  changed  his 
position,  so  that  his  face  turned  up  to  the  boy, 
gleaming  like  mahogany  in  the  fire-glow. 

All  apathy  was  gone  from  the  boy  then.  AVhat 
had  come  to  him  when  he  looked  upon  his  dead 
father  awoke  again.  Grasping  the  musket  in  his 
firm,  brown  hands,  he  looked  down  at  the  face. 
Here  was  one  of  his  father's  murderers !  Perhaps 
this  very  man  had  struck  the  blow;  perhaps  it  was 
he  who  had  first  fired  the  cabin  ;  perhaps  it  was  he 


60  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

who  had  worn  the  bear-skin,  and  been  watched  for 
days  by  the  boy  who  now  looked  upon  him,  holding 
him  in  his  power.  Might  not  the  debt  be  paid  now? 
Instinctively  he  raised  the  hammer  of  the  musket. 
He  lost  sight  of  everything  else  around  him  but  the 
man  who  lay  in  his  power.  That  one  face  gleamed 
out  at  him,  tempting  him.  A  fierce  longing  came 
to  him  now — this  moment — to  place  that  gun-barrel 
close  to  that  treacherous  countenance,  and  send  a 
soul  out  to  the  dread  unknown  in  memory  of  his 
father.  Fear  was  gone  from  the  boy  now,  and  he 
stood  there  as  reckless  of  life  as  he  w^as  ever  after. 
The  helpless  Indian  face  tormented  him ;  more  and 
more  he  burned  to  wreak  vengeance.  He  looked 
about  him,  and  saw  the  many  recumbent  forms. 
Oh,  to  kill  all !  At  least,  he  might  die  in  the  attempt. 

Then  he  thought  of  his  relying  brother,  waiting 
for  him  on  the  log  in  the  black,  dense  wood. 

"  I  have  no  time  now,"  he  said,  slinging  his 
weapon  over  his  shoulder,  and  leaping  savage  after 
savage  with  a  step  as  light  as  the  air,  and,  buoyed 
up,  he  came  back  to  his  brother.  They  set  out 
immediately.  Young  as  they  were,  they  were  suffi- 
ciently expert  in  tracking  paths  in  the  woods  to 
find  their  way  out.  There  was  nothing  but  a 
charred  ruin  remaining  of  their  home,  but  they 
were  to  make  their  way  to  their  mother  and  sisters 
and  brothers. 


THE  OATH,  61 

Again  the  leaves  crisped  under  their  tread ;  far- 
ther and  farther  from  the  light  of  the  fire  they  went. 

"  Remember,"  said  Lewis  Wetzel  once,  "  there  must 
be  no  more  whimpering.  If  you  whimper,  I'll  leave 
you  here." 

"  Are  you  afraid  of  them  ?"  asked  his  little  brother 
tremulously. 

"  It  is  because  I  want  them  to  fear  me  that  I  mean 
to  escape,"  was  the  reply. 

So  they  went  on,  casting  many  a  glance  back 
through  the  ebon  darkness,  where  the  now  dim 
light  of  the  camp-fire  was  but  as  the  glow  of  a 
candle  they  had  often  seen  set  in  the  window  at 
home  to  guide  them  on  their  way  from  the  hunting 
of  a  stray  sheep  or  cow. 

They  had  not  been  gone  long  when  the  Indian 
whose  gun  had  been  purloined  awoke  and  discovei*ed 
his  loss.  The  fact  of  the  escape  was  made  known 
at  once,  and  a  pursuit  instituted.  The  boys,  going 
along,  heard  the  Indians  hard  on  their  heels.  Once 
they  were  almost  overtaken,  the  Indians  brushing 
closely  past  them. 

"Down!"  whispered  Lewis,  and  he  and  his  brother 
precipitated  themselves  into  the  sea  of  tall  grass  all 
around  them,  and  which  their  pursuers  beat  with 
clubs  without  discovering  the  objects  of  their  search. 
Long  the  boys  laid  there.    Then  the  pursuing  party 


62  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

passed  on.  "  Up  I"  said  Lewis  Wetzel,  and  he  and 
his  brother  fell  into  the  rear  of  the  searchers,  and 
took  up  thdir  travels  again  towards  liberty. 

Then  they  heard  the  Indians  returning,  cursing 
the  guard  and  everybody  concerned,  for  the  loss  of 
two  captives  who  had  not  so  much  as  left  their 
scalps  behind,  but  had  stolen  a  gun  and  two  pairs 
of  moccasins — and  only  boys  at  that ! 

When  the  boys  heard  the  augr}^  voices  returning, 
they  precipitated  themselves  into  the  grass  again, 
and  a  second  time  escaped  detection.  Then,  when 
the  party  had  passed  by,  they  went  feebly  on  again. 
They  were  then  followed  by  two  Indians  on  hors(> 
back,  whom  they  eluded  in  the  same  manner.  But 
these  Indians  drove  their  horses  over  the  grass  in  a 
hap-hazard  manner,  and  more  than  once  the  boys 
narrowdy  escaped  death.  But  they  did  escape,  and 
a  day  more  found  them  beyond  the  reach  of  the 
braves. 

They  subsisted  for  days  on  roots,  for  though  they 
had  a  gun  the}'  had  no  amunition  but  the  one  load 
in  it,  and  that  Lewis  refused  to  use  on  mere  game, 
expecting  more  deadly  use  for  it  were  they  pursued 
a  second  time  (which  was  not  to  be),  and,  after  slow 
marches  and  strong  endeavors  to  counteract  the 
weakness  stealing  over  them,  they  reached  the  river. 
In  their  sorry  condition,  and  knowing  that  that 


THE  OATH.  63 

river  must  be  crossed  before  they  could  be  near 
friends,  the  two  boys  made  a  raft,  the  implement 
for  making  which  was  a  jack-knife,  and  their  cloth- 
ing torn  in  strips  to  tie  the  planks  together  wdien 
the  withes  from  the  trees  failed  them.  In  this  raft 
they  crossed  the  river,  two  boys  made  men  by 
sorrow  and  wrong.  When  they  reached  the  other 
side,  Lewis  was  nearly  exhausted  from  the  bleeding 
of  the  w^ound  in  his  breast. 

"AVe  must  reach  Wheeling,"  he  said  to  his  brother, 
and  despite  pain  and  weakness  they  again  pushed 
onw^ard,  and  slowdy,  but  surely,  they  sighted  Wheel- 
ing and  friends. 

From  afar  off  they  saw  the  place,  and  could  dis- 
cern the  people  moving  about. 

"  But  it  is  so  far,"  pleaded  the  younger  boy. 

^'  You  w^ill  go,  as  I  tell  you  to,"  said  the  other. 

Nearer  and  nearer  they  went  to  the  place.  Once 
out  of  the  tall  grass,  they  could  be  seen,  and  a  man 
saw  them.  They  could  see  this  man,  his  hand  before 
his  eyes,  looking  in  their  direction,  and  apparently 
hallooing  to  those  about  him;  then  the  boys  encoun- 
tered grass  again.  When  they  emerged,  they  were 
wdthin  hailing  distance;  in  a  few  minutes  more 
they  w^re  in  Wheeling. 

There  they  were  met  by  their  mother  and  her 
friends.  -Freeing  himself  from  the  hysteric  woman's 
embraces,  Lewis  Wetzel  stood  apart  from  them  all. 


64  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  He  is  hurt  in  the  breast,"  said  a  little  girl — 
Berta  Rosencranz. 

"  Never  mind  my  hurt,"  he  said  to  those  anxious 
to  attend  to  him.    "I  am  thinking — of  my  father." 

"Pie  is  crazed,"  said  old  Eberly,  their  one-time 
neighbor. 

"He  is  notr  cried  the  little  girl,  stamping  her 
foot,  her  eyes  blazing. 

For  several  minutes  the  boy  stood  thus  apart,-  his 
mother  bitterly  weeping,  her  little  family  huddled 
up  beside  her,  and  the  child  Berta  alone  gazing  on 
Lewis  with  understanding  of  the  feeling  swaying 
him.  Suddenly  throwing  the  Indian's  musket  from 
him,  and  raising  his  clenched  hand,  he  cried : 

"  I  swear  to  kill  every  Indian  that  crosses  my 
path,  so  long  as  God  lets  me  live !" 

For  a  moment  there  was  a  stunned  silence ;  the 
vehemence,  the  energy,  and,  moreover,  a  certain 
quality  they  had  not  expected  from  the  lad,  startled 
the  rude  sympathizers  into  a  calm  of  wonder  and 
awe.  Then  his  mother  broke  out  in  wails,  wringing 
her  hands  and  declaring  that  her  child  was  mad, 
and  asking  despairingly,  "What  shall  I  do?  What 
shall  I  do?" 

She  grasped  her  other  child,  so  recently  recovered, 
and  held  convulsively  to  him. 

"Lewis!   Lewis  I"   she  cried,  "what  does  it  all 


THE  OATH.  65 

mean?  What  can  it  all  mean  ?  First  your  father, 
then  you.  I  am  wild !  I  am  wild !  I  am  afraid  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life,  and  I  don't  know  what 
makes  me  afraid." 

His  little  brother,  whom  he  had  brought  into 
Wheeling,  broke  from  his  mother,  and  stood  beside 
him. 

"  Your  oath  is  mine  1"  he  said  stoutly. 

The  girl  Berta  had  thrown  herself  upon  the 
ground  weeping.  The  mother  rent  the  air  with  her 
cries.  How  that  oath  was  more  than  mere  boyish 
bravado  their  after-life  attested.  The  energy  of 
youth  kept  alive  their  hatred,  until  it  had  become  a 
characteristic  defying  age  or  calmer  judgment  to 
effect  alteration  or  mitigation.  Hurled  at  one  fell 
swoop  from  childish  inconsequence  and  carelessness, 
their  childish  natures  forsook  them ;  they  were  har- 
dened men,  with  more  than  a  man's  ordinar}^  respon- 
sibility. Young  boys  were  men  when  they  could  do 
a  man's  work  among  the  settlers;  and  what  the 
endurance  and  trials  of  a  bringing-up  such  as  theirs 
had  been  inculcated  in  them  made  them  like-  the 
savages  whose  childish  rearing  was  not  a  whit  wilder 
than  that  of  these  white  boys'. 

A  descendant  of  old  neighbor  Eberly  told  the 
present  writer,  not  long  since,  that  an  old  paper, 
found  among  some  family  books,  and  written  by 
Pberly's  hand,  has  this  note : 


66  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Lowis  Wetzell  a  prime  young  ladd  made  oath 
to-day  that  hee  wold  kill  every  Injun  as  come  on  his 
path.  A  bad  beginning  for  so  young  a  ladd.  I 
spoke  to  him  about  it,  and  he  ansered  nothing.  Hee 
seemed  like  to  a  grown  man  all  to  once.  Hee  had 
such  an  air  about  him  that  I  could  say  nothing  to 
dissuade  him  after  a  bitt.  Hee  has  suffered  much : 
hee  never  smiled  all  day,  as  childern  will  when 
surrounded  by  other  childern  and  soon  forgit  their 
losses.  And  the  strange  part  of  it  is  that  nobody 
thinks  the  oath  out  of  the  way  nor  odd  for  a  ladd 
to  make.  It  sounds  odd,  and  it  looks  odd  on  paper. 
But  looking  at  the  ladd  and  seeing  his  harde  face 
and  harde  eyes,  it  seemeth  not  so  odd  nor  out  of  the 
way.  The  Lord  be  with  us  all,  and  rid  us  of  our 
many  troubles  now  clustering  about  these  colonies 
that  are  no  longer  England's  out-posts,  praise  the 
Lord  I" 

Yet  De  Haas,  in  his  memoir  of  Lewis  Wetzel, 
gives  an  account  of  the  death  of  John  Wetzel,  the 
father,  which  carries  the  date  of  the  massacre  for- 
ward about  ten  years  or  so,  thus  making  Lewis 
Wetzel  far  more  mature  when  the  famous  oath  was 
taken  than  the  notes  the  writer  has  collected.  It  is 
even  asserted  that  the  family  came  to  AVheeling 
from  Washington,  Pennsylvania ;  some,  again,  con- 
tradicting these,  and  giving  the  Pennsylvania  side 


THE  OATH.  67 

of  Virginia  as  their  home  before  going  farther  West. 
The  writer  has  had  it  asseverated  to  him  that  Lan- 
caster sent  the  family  of  Wetzels  fortk  Said  an  old 
woman  in  the  old  market  at  Lancaster : 

"  Wetzels  ?  Yah !  I  know  Wetzels.  My  mudder 
she  lofe  Jahn  Wetzel's  boy  Lewis.  My  mudder  she 
was  gal,  and  used  to  watch  for  Jahn  Wetzel's  boy 
Lewis  up  Wheeling.  He  was  big  man  wid  long 
hair,  and  he  mended  my  mudder's  dolly-baby's  legs. 
He  mended  every  tings  what  want  mending,  and 
the  wiming  used  for  to  say :  '  It's  time  Lewis 
Wetzel  he  come  now  already,  and  we  will  get 
all  our  tings  mended  when  he  come  once.'  Vash- 
ingtown  was  Lewis  Wetzel's  home?  Nein!  nein! 
Lancaster  was  his  home.  You  tink  I  lies?  I  got 
big  blue  pitcher,  what  Heister's  gal  she  found  in 
Jahn  Wetzel's  house  when  he  goned  away,  and  my 
mudder's  mudder  she  kept  it." 

And  she  pulled  her  black  hood  further  over  her 
face  and  attended  to  a  more  paying  customer,  who 
wanted  some  of  her  beautiful  eggs  and  golden  lumps 
of  butter. 

Be  it  as  it  may,  there  is  so  much  that  is  necessarily 
left  to  conjecture,  and  facts  standing  the  chance  of 
being  doubted  as  much  as  hearsay,  that  only  the 
most  often  vouched-for  legends,  with  long  strings  of 
scarcely  contestible  proofs,  can  be  taken  as  in  any 


68  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

way  authentic,  even  such  facts  standing  the  chance 
of  having  detractors  arise,  claiming  more  proofs 
than  those  which  have  ahnost  established  the  authen- 
ticity of  the  accepted  version.  Yet  the  Lancaster 
authorities  still  say  Lancaster,  with  show  of  reason. 
As  to  the  death  of  John  Wetzel,  De  Haas's  statement 
is:  "He  was  killed  near  Captina,  in  1787,  on  his 
return  from  Middle  Island  Creek,  under  the  follow- 
ing circumstances.  Himself  and  companion  were 
in  a  canoe,  paddling  slowly  near  the  shore,  when 
they  were  hailed  by  a  party  of  Indians,  and  ordered 
to  land.  This  they,  of  course,  refused  to  do,  when 
immediately  they  were  fired  upon,  and  "Wetzel  was 
shot  through  the  body.  Feeling  himself  mortally 
wounded,  he  directed  his  companion  to  lie  down  in 
the  canoe,  while'  he  (Wetzel),  so  long  as  strength 
remained,  would  paddle  the  frail  vessel  beyond 
reach  of  the  savages. 

"  In  this  way  he  saved  the  life  of  his  friend,  while 
his  own  was  ebbing  fast.  He  died  soon  after  reach- 
ing the  shore,  at  Baker's  Station." 

This  is  materially  different  from  the  other  version, 
and  depends  mainly,  as  much  as  that,  upon  the 
gossip  of  the  settlers,  which  has  come  down  to  to-day 
in  legends.  In  the  then  state  of  the  country  it  is 
just  possible  that  a  settler  murdered  was  only  a 
settler  murdered,  and  that  the  mode  of  John  Wetzel's 


THE  OATH.  69 

death  was  little  inquired  into  until  after  his  son 
had  come  prominently  before  the  country  as  his 
avowed  and  fatal  avenger, — the  care-taker  of  the 
weaker  parts  of  the  frontier,  whose  services  might 
always  be  called  upon,  and  relied  upon,  wherever 
there  were  signs  of  Indian  depredation,  or  where 
widowed  women  and  orphaned  children  had  no  one 
left  to  defend  them.  And  he  came  without  a  word, 
their  friend,  and  the  ready  executioner  of  their  red 
enemies. 

But  all  statements,  from  whatever  source,  and 
with  whatever  degree  of  proof,  coincide  with  the 
main  events  here  narrated ;  and  agree  that  the 
murder  of  the  father  was  the  chief  moving  power  of 
the  whole  after-life  of  the  scout.  And  the  taking 
prisoners  of  the  boys  is  substantially  the  same  in 
all  accounts  as  is  given  in  the  present  instance, 
the  wound  in  the  breast  and  the  loss  of  a  part  of 
the  breast-bone  being  spoken  of  in  every  version. 

Yet  it  seems  more  than  probable  that  the  two  boys 
were  of  a  very  tender  age  when  captured,  younger  by 
far  than  De  Haas  in  his  narrative  makes  them,  as 
their  savage  captors  had  dealt  only  too  often  with 
white  onen,  and  very  rarely  took  them  alive  when 
they  were  defending  their  own  property  and  lives. 
Nor  is  it  scarcely  as  probable  that  the  sly  and  ever- 
watchful  red  men  would  have  been  so  lacking  in 


70  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

their  austere  treatment  of  grown  men  as  to  allow  an 
escape  of  two  for  want  of  adequate  guardianship 
and  bonds.  The  Indian  guarders  of  white  men 
were  staunch  as  those  of  old  Rome,  who  were 
accused  by  the  Jews  of  sleeping  around  the  tomb  of 
the  crucified  Christ,  which  accounted  for  its  vacancy. 
A  Roman  soldier  to  sleep ! 

Consequently,  their  youth  is  pretty  well  estab- 
lished by  the  fact  of  the  escape  of  the  two  boys, 
the  mode  of  it,  and  the  long  time  of  waiting  on  the 
part  of  Lewis  Wetzel  before  he  carried  his  oath 
into  execution. 

liowever,  the  incident  of  their  capture  and  escape 
is. in  all  the  chronicles  and  tales,  and  in  all,  also,  is 
the  vouched-for  truth  that  the  times  were  such  that 
small  mercy  would  have  been  shown  to  even  willing 
captives  by  the  Indians,  if  those  captives  were  men. 
But  boy  prisoners  were  often  treated  with  unexpected 
leniency,  after  trial  of  their  endurance,  as  in  the 
case  of  these  two,  in  the  hope  of  their  affiliation 
with  Indian  tribes  and  subsequent  adoption  of  their 
habits,  thus  becoming  warriors  fiercer,  more  malign, 
than  the  natives  themselves,  as  apostasy  invariably 
carries  with  it  a  fervor  unknown  to  original  beliefs 
and  modes. 

It  is  said  that  Lewis  Wetzel  sedulously  deelined 
any  treatment  for  his  wound.    Little  Berta  Rosen- 


THE  OATH.  71 

cranz  gave  him  lint,  and  cried  when  he  dropped  it 

on  the  ground.  Old  Eberly  said  that  the  wound 
had  caused  fever,  which  hurt  his  brain.  And  this 
fact  he  records  also : 

"  The  ladd  his  heade  burnt  like  fire,  and  his  eyes 
they  burnt  too.  Settler  Truman's  wife  she  gif  him 
some  tea  made  off  the  tanzy  plante  and  olde  man; 
but  he  wold  not  drinke  off  it,  which  I  done  my  owm 
selfe  for  the  rheumatiz." 

This  old  aimotator  appears  to  have  thought  more 
of  the  family  than  the  other  did,  and  keeps  them 
steadily  in  view.  His  notes  being  in  private-family 
form  necessarily  contain  much  that  should  not  be 
made  public,  and  which  would  be  uninteresting, 
save  for  the  quaintness  in  them.  The  writer  uses 
them  solely  because  they  throw  a  more  human  light 
on  the  times  and  people  they  speak  of. 

Three  weeks  after  the  arrival  of  the  two  boys  at 
Wheeling,  and  when  they  had  been  seen  but  little 
in  the  community,  old  Eberly,  going  into  the  woods 
to  trap  a  squirrel  or  two,  stumbled  across  the  dead 
body  of  an  Indian.  A  few  yards  from  the  body 
Lewis  Wetzel  and  his  young  brother  were  silently 
regarding  the  old  man. 

"  I  sed  to  them,"  ho  writes,  "you  raskels,  why  fore 
did  you  put  to  death  innocent  man  ?" 

The  answer  is  not  recorded,  nor  is  the  denial  of 


72  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

the  death  at  the  hands  of  the  boys.  But  at  the 
girdle  of  the  dead  Indian  was  found  a  scalp  of 
golden  hair,  that  glittered  and  fell  in  pretty  streams 
before  the  brave,  and  tied  to  the  bright  hair  the  left 
hand  of  a  young  ivhite  girl,  the  fingers  crushed  and 
broken,  as  though  the  owner  of  the  small  hand  had 
been  cruelly  tortured  before  death,  if  the  hand  had 
not  belonged  to  a  girl  still  living. 

"  Oh,  such  times !"  writes  old  Eberly,  after  shud- 
dering over  the  little  white  hand.  "  And  the  oath 
of  that  ladd  was  not  only  mere  child's-talk.  What 
will  come  of  that  oath?  And  0,  these  troublous 
times !" 

There  had  come  into  Wheeling,  a  few  days  after 
the  restoration  to  liberty  of  the  two  boys,  a  white 
man,  from  whose  mouth  had  been  torn  the  tongue, 
and  whose  wrists  were  gory  stumps,  from  which  no 
hands  extended.  He  could  neither  tell  nor  write 
the  story  of  his  wrongs.  Yet  no  voice  nor  writing 
was  necessary  to  tell  that  Indian  cruelty  had  done 
the  deed.  When  this  man  died,  eyes  blurred  with 
passion,  not  with  tears,  looked  on  his  corpse.  At 
about  the  same  time  twenty  horses  belonging  to  a 
settler  were  found  one  morning  hamstrung,  so  that 
the  suffering  brutes  had  to  be  killed  immediately. 

A  field  of  grain  was  trodden  down  in  one  night 
by  human  feet,  and  no  one  had  heard  a  sound  in 


THE  OATH.  73 

the  night  but  the  songliing  of  the  wind  and  the 
peculiar  hush  of  the  darkness.  A  party  of  white 
sokliers  in  red  coats,  led  by  Indians,  had  come  to  a 
settler's  house  and  taken  the  bread  from  the  hungry 
children  and  marched  the  father  off  a  prisoner  and 
left  the  woman  in  the  hands  of  the  savage  guides. 
Innumerable  are  the  stories  that  have  come  doAvn 
to  us,  and  which  are  horrible  to  us  at  this  remote 
time,  when  even  to  read  of  them  makes  us  hasten 
to  turn  the  page.  What  must  it  have  been  when 
that  old  man,  in  the  midst  of  it,  took  his  quill  and 
poke-berry -juice,  and  wrote  upon  his  coarse  paper 
his  trembling  concern  for  "these  troublous  times"? 
And  what  were  these  times  ? 


74  LEWIS  WETZEL. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   INDIAN    SCOUT. 

n^HE  times  were  such  as  admitted  very  rarely  of 
any  intermediate  course  of  action  whatsoever. 
It  was  either  for  or  against.  It  was  a  time  of  pecu- 
liar unquiet  and  turbulence.  The  Revolution  was 
at  its  height ;  it  seemed  doubtful  which  way  the  war 
must  eventually  turn,  and  desperation  became 
synonymous  with  bravery  in  the  urging  of  their 
rights  by  the  colonists.  The  troubles  in  the  interior 
called  for  all  the  aid  the  colonies  could  grant,  leav- 
ing the  frontier  almost  completely  exposed  and 
defenseless. 

The  British  called  in  and  stimulated  the  already 
reckless  and  embittered  Indians  to  make  inroads 
upon  cultivated  lands  and  tethered  stock.  These 
inroads  left  everything  changed,  and  barrenness  and 
waste  were  on  every  hand.  Scenes  of  murder  were 
of  frequent  occurrence,  and  death  was  not  always 
the  worst  penalty  inflicted  upon  the  captive  settlers. 
These  were  only  too  often  mere  women  and  children, 
the  men  having  marched  inland  hastily,  leaving 


THE  INDIAN  SCOUT.  75 

their  families  in  the  hands  of  Divinity,  while  they 
were  enrolled  as  rebels  against  his  Majesty  of  Eng- 
land. There  were  renegades,  too,  among  the  early 
settlers,  who,  being  offended  by  slights,  real  or 
imaginary,  inflicted  by  their  brother  emigrants, 
were  the  most  energetic  of  the  advisers  of  the 
Indians  in  their  barbarous  mode  of  warfare,  and 
were  benefited  by  the  lion's  share  of  the  spoils. 
Simon  Girty  is  one  of  these  men.  Because  of  some 
offered  slight,  the  nature  of  which  is  mostly  conjec- 
tural after  this  long  period  of  time,  and  few  authentic 
proofs  being  at  hand,  if  any  in  existence,  he  deserted 
and  joined  the  Indians,  and  became  a  horror  to  his 
former  white  associates.  His  exquisite  cruelty  was 
something  original  in  the  simple  annals  of  the  first 
settlers.  His  fury  against  the  whites  resembled  more 
the  paroxysms  of  a  maniac  than  the  deliberate  cru- 
elty of  even  a  naturally  ferocious  temperament. 
No  inquisitioner  of  old  could  have  enjoyed  more 
unmoved  the  throes  of  agon}^  wrung  from  the  tor- 
tured white  man  than  did  Simon  Girty,  as,  mounted 
on  his  horse,  he  would  look  on  at  the  barbarous 
scenes  enacted  by  the  raging  Indian  braves.  With 
all  their  wiliness  and  suspicion  of  the  whites,  the 
red-skins  seem  to  have  reposed  confidence  in  this 
man,  strange  as  it  may  appear.  His  fiendishness 
may  have  awed  them,  and  made  them  look  to  him 


76  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

as  the  incarnation  of  their  own  worst  traits,  which 
worst  traits  are  oftener  obeyed  tlian  better  ones.  At 
any  rate,  they  held  to  him,  and  were  willing  to  be 
guided  by  him  in  depredations  they  w^ould  never 
have  thought  of  but  for  him. 

He  appears  to  have  lost  all  moral  sensibility,  to 
have  been  deaf  to  the  voice  of  friendship,  save  on 
one  occasion.  And  that  occasion  is,  that  Kenton, 
who,  as  Girty's  fellow-spy,  went  by  the  name  of 
Butler,  w^as  at  last  taken  prisoner  by  the  Indians  in 
a  raid  he  had  instituted  against  them,  and,  after 
being  mercilessly  tortured,  was  condemned  to  the 
stake,  and  besought  Girty's  intervention.  Girty 
really  did  work  hard  to  save  his  friend,  and  brought 
the  influence  of  the  noble  and  simple  chief  Logan  to 
bear  in  his  case. 

"Young  man,"  said  Logan  to  the  captive,  "my 
people  seem  very  angry  with  you.  What  cause  have 
they?" 

"They  are  angry, — I  don't  know  why,"  said 
Kenton  respectfully,  and  looking  over  to  Girty. 

"  Tell  me  the  truth,"  said  Logan. 

"  I  only  know  I  have  fought  with  your  people, 
then  became  their  enemy  and  fought  against  them," 
returned  Kenton  boldly. 

"Be  of  good  cheer,"  said  the  chief;  "a  man  is 
not  base  for  fighting  against  his    enemies.      My 


THE  INDIAN  SCO  UT.  .77 

people  speak  of  burning  you  at  Sandusky,  but  I 
will  send  runners  before,  and  they  will  speak  you 
fair  at  Sandusky." 

By  dint  of  wily  and  yet  brave  manoeuvering  and 
risk,  Kenton  escaped,  and  Girty  w^as  his  savior. 

But  Girty  was  not  the  only  man  who  acted  so 
insanely  against  his  brethren.  With  such  men  in 
their  midst,  often  unknown  to  be  anything  but  their 
warmest  champions,  what  had  the  settlers  not  to 
fear? 

The  money  of  the  British  doubtless  played  a 
leading  part  with  many  of  these  spies.  Old  Eberly 
writes : 

"  To-day  I  buried  my  britania  tea-pot,  for  I  mor- 
tally fear  to  bee  called  on  to  deliver  it  up,  it  being 
of  a  tempting  richness,  to  the  British  spies  that  seem 
to  bee  here,  there,  and  everywhere,  without  us  know- 
ing who  they  bee." 

There  was  no  use  in  making  any  complaint,  for 
there  was  no  one  in  authority  with  whom  to  lodge 
complaint.  If  a  spy  were  discovered,  the  only 
righteous  mode  of  dealing  with  him  was  to  kill  him 
as  a  dangerous  reptile,  wdthout  waiting  for  any  inter- 
vention of  so-called  law.  For  there  was  litile  or  no 
law  now  within  reach  of  the  frontiermen,  and  each 
was  compelled  to  be  soldier,  prosecutor,  and  judge  in 
his  own  defense,  and  to  use  his  strong  arm  in  the 


78  LEWIS  WETZEL.  , 

interests  of  his  hard-earned  property  and  his  help- 
less family.  As  the  Indian  code  was  one  of  total 
extermination,  the  white  settler  was  compelled  to 
adopt  the  red  man's  tenets,  and  no  mercy  nor  parley 
was  granted. 

From  this  only  further  cruelty,  barbarity,  and 
hatred  could  arise.  And  there  sprang  up  among 
the  settlers,  after  a  night  of  horror  and  devastation, 
the  Indian  scout, — a  man  sworn  to  hunt  down  the 
Indian,  to  destroy  him  upon  his  own  ground,  to  have 
no  mercy,  to  be  an  avenging  fate  to  wroug-doers. 
The  services  of  these  scouts  were  wholly  voluntary, 
and  their  supplies  were  furnished  by  themselves  at 
their  own  cost. 

There  was  a  settler  who  sold  all  his  little  belongings 
and  came  with  the  money  procured  therewith  in  his 
hand,  and,  handing  it  over  to  a  man  in  authority, 
said : 

"  This  is  all  I  have.  I  give  it  to  you  if  you  will 
let  me  be  a  scout.  If  I  die,  the  money  can  be 
divided  between  you.  Should  I  live,  then  I  can 
work  for  myself  and  gain  more." 

It  was  known  that  a  woman  who  had  suffered 
intense  wrong  at  the  hands  of  the  Indians  had 
vowed  a  fierce  revenge.  A  scout  was  encountered 
in  the  Indian  trails  who  spoke  to  no  man;  stern, 
sad  of  face,  heavy-browed,  he  went  on  his  way,  fer- 


THE  INDIAN  SCO  UT.  79 

reting  out  stray  Indians  and  killing  them  without 
mercy  and  in  silence.  He  associated  with  no  man, 
he  spoke  not  of  his  prowess;  he  never  made  a 
display  of  the  scalps  of  his  victims,  if  he  ever  took 
any ;  he  was  scarcely  seen  to  eat,  and  when  he  slept 
no  one  conjectured.  Stern,  ruthless,  he  killed  and 
spared  not  men,  women,  and  even  little  children — 
all  fell  before  the  rifle  that  never  left  his  hand.  It 
was  said  that  a  score  of  Indians  bit  the  dust  in  his 
track  within  a  month,  and  still  he  went  silently  on. 
Once,  a  cold,  stormy  night,  another  scout  came 
across  him  going  through  the  blinding  snow  towards 
an  Indian  camp,  a  heavy  bag  thrown  across  his 
shoulders,  his  gun  no  longer  by  his  side,  his  right 
hand  grasping  the  bag  and  holding  it. in  place,  his 
left  hand  hidden  in  the  breast  of  his  coat.  His 
fellow-scout  spoke  to  him,  and  he  turned  jaded  eyes 
upon  him  and  smiled, — the  first  smile  that  any  one 
had  seen  on  his  face  since  he  had  mysteriously  come 
into  contact  with  the  other  scouts.  He  was  asked 
where  he  was  going.  He  pulled  his  left  hand  from 
his  coat,  and  pointed  towards  the  Indian  camp — his 
hand  had  been  shattered  by  the  premature  explosion 
of  his  gun,  and  w^as  powerless  henceforth.  What, 
then,  could  he  be  going  for  in  the  direction  of  the 
Indian  camp  ?  He  passed  by  his  fellow-scout  and 
went  through  the  snow.    The  other  man  turned  and 


80  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

soiiglit  shelter,  and,  wrapping  himself  in  a  blanket, 
slept. 

He  knew  not  how  long  he  slept,  but  all  at  once 
he  w^as  awakened  by  an  earthquake:  he  thought 
that  heaven  and  earth  had  come  together.  But 
everything  was  still  when  he  opened  his  eyes.  For 
all  that,  his  heart  was  beating  wildly,  and  he  could 
not  think  he  had  been  dreaming.  But  no  repetition 
of  the  sound  occurred,  and  still  the  soft  white  'snow 
fell  gently  and  softly  outside.  He  argued  with 
himself  that  he  had  been  dreaming,  and  that  the 
start  he  had  experienced  when  the  other  scout  had 
shown  his  shattered  hand  had  produced  the  dream 
— he  had  imagined  the  exploding  gun. 

But  when  it  was  light,  he  went  towards  the  Indian 
camp  discovered  the  night  before.  The  snow  had 
wiped  out  the  track  of  the  silent  traveler  encountered 
last  night;  the  snow  had  wiped  out  most  of  the  marks 
of  devastation  that  wounded,  silent  traveler  had 
caused.  For  the  scout  came  across  the  form  of  the 
man,  dead  in  his  path,  covered  with  snow,  and  with 
limbs  and  members  of  five  or  six  Indians  near  by. 

The  bag  on  the  silent  scout's  back  had  been  filled 
with  gunpowder,  which,  knowing  that  his  useless 
hand  would  forever  debar  him  from  the  use  of  the 
rifle,  he  had  collected  in  some  manner,  and,  as  a  last 
revenge,  had  gone  to  the  camp-fire  and  thrown  it  in. 


THE  IXBIAN  SCO  UT.  81 

taking  death  thus,  himself  perishing  with  the  last 
fruits  of  his  undying  hatred.  This  the  man  who 
found  the  body  readily  understood,  and  gazed  with 
awe  upon  the  wild  work  of  the  strange  being  who 
rested  under  the  snow  before  him.  He  leaned  down 
before  that  form  and  scraped  the  snow  away  from 
the  face.  He  opened  the  coat,  then  started  back  in 
horror:  for  the  silent  scout,  the  deadly  destroyer  of 
all  Indians,  man,  woman,  and  child,  was  the  woman 
who  had  been  most  foully  wronged  by  Indian 
braves. 

This  story  was  brought  into  Wheeling  along  with 
the  body  of  the  woman.  Her  death  made  more 
scouts  than  her  life  could  have  made.  A  thirst  for 
Indian  blood  arose;  men  coaxed  for  the  privilege 
of  being  recognized  as  avengers  of  white  men's 
blood.  Even  children  were  told  their  duty  was  to 
kill.  All  this  argued  that  it  was  animal  against 
animal.  But  such  is  not  the  case :  it  was  awakening 
intelligence  against  rudely-awakened  intelligence. 

There  are  people,  even  at  this  late  day,  who  hold, 
that  the  Indian  is  a  wronged  man  and  a  brother, 
and  that  the  most  uncivilized  mode  has  ever  been 
adopted  to  civilize  him.  He  was  naturally  a  brave 
and  reckless  man,  protecting  his  rights  and  allowing 
no  encroachment  upon  what  he  claimed  as  his  own. 
He  did  not  hate  the  whites,  the  "  long  knives,"  till 


82  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

he  thought  they  usurped  his  privileges.  Day  by 
day  his  lodge  was  moved  farther  and  farther  towards 
the  setting  sun,  his  ranks  thinned  of  his  young 
warriors  and  maidens  by  the  promises,  honest  and 
specious,  of  the  whites.  He  could  not  accept  civili- 
zation because,  like  the  bison,  civilization  meant  a 
bridle  to  his  personality.  "  AVar  was  the  favorite 
pursuit  of  this  martial  people,  and  military  glory 
their  ruling  passion.  Agriculture  and  the  laborious 
drudgery  of  domestic  life  were  left  to  the  women. 
The  education  of  the  savage  w^as  solely  directed  to 
hunting  and  war.  From  his  early  infancy  he  was 
taught  to  bend  the  bow,  to  point  the  arrow,  to  hurl 
the  tomahawk,  and  to  wield  the  club."  He  was  also 
taught  to  track  his  enemy's  footstep  through  the 
almost  impregnable  forest;  to  mark  the  faintest 
indications  of  danger;  to  find  his  way  by  the 
appearance  of  the  trees  and  by  the  stars.  He  must 
endure  fatigue,  cold,  famine,  every  privation. 

The  Indians  had  an  exalted  spirit  of  liberty^  which 
revolted  against  all  control.  They  considered  them- 
selves sovereigns,  accountable  to  no  one  but  Manitou, 
the  Great  Spirit, — God  !  The  dusky  brave  despised 
death,  and  during  his  life  regarded  it  with  the 
indifference  of  the  Moslem.  He  seldom  committed 
suicide,  because  patience  and  endurance  are  the  first 
duties  of  a  warrior,  leading  to  high  rewards,  and 


THE  INDIAN  SCOUT.  83 

none  but  cowards  yield  to  pain  and  misfortune.  He 
was  taught  from  early  infancy  that  the  Great  Spirit 
would  be  offended  by  any  change  in  the  red  man's 
mode  of  life  handed  down  by  ancient  tradition.  He 
believed  all  the  wild  and  debasing  superstitions  his 
wise  men  taught  him.  He  left  tobacco  on  rocks  as  a 
sacrifice  to  invisible  spirits.  His  every  act  must  con- 
ciliate some  spiritual  influence.  He  was  willing  in 
the  beginning  to  act  as  guide  to  the  chance  white 
man,  and  looked  upon  the  interloper,  at  first,  almost 
as  a  superior  being.  » 

Roger  \Yilliams  says:  "I  have  been  guided  by 
them  twenty,  thirty,  and  forty  miles,  through  woods,^^ 
on  a  straight  course,  out  of  any  path.  When  the 
English  first  came  to  this  country,  it  was  admirable 
to  see  what  paths  their  naked  feet  had  made  in  the 
wilderness,  in  the  most  stony  and  rocky  places.  On 
the  whole,  we  may  speak  of  them  as  a  brave,  reckless, 
generous,  and  unfortunate  people." 

Imagine  such  a  people  suffering  under  an  imagi- 
nary wrong,  thinking  their  simple  lives  set  aside 
and  circumvented  by  cunning  and  fraud.  What 
they  claimed  by  the  law  of  primogeniture  vras  taken 
from  them,  and  they  were  forced  to  make  treaties 
with  the  stranger,  who  had  no  right  to  anything,  in 
order  to  insure  possession  of  what  had  always  been 
theirs. 


84  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Ignorant,  as  we  reckon  ignorance,  filled  with  their 
own  importance,  what  could  they  not  become  when 
desperate?  A  simple,  holy  nature  perverted  becomes 
more  vile  than  the  veriest  reveler  in  all  villainies. 
The  whites  who  came  to  them  with  offered  services 
when  they  were  fighting  ofi*  the  settlers  that  daily 
encroached  a  little  upon  their  reserves  were  of  the 
most  depraved  nature,  and  sided  with  them  only  to 
wreak  some  petty  vengeance  upon  their  brothers, 
or  to  gain  by  foul  means  what  they  dared  not  claim 
by  fair. 

The  Indian,  a  lover  of  bravery,  must  have  seen  in 
all  the  whites  but  prototypes  of  those  who  claimed 
their  aid  in  their  own  quarrels.  They  became  the 
fiends  we  know  them  during  the  Indian  wars.  All 
the  unbridled  passions  of  man,  often  more  fierce  than 
those  of  beasts,  were  given  full  license  in  their  deter- 
mination to  wipe  out  the  encroacher.  They  knew  no 
reason,  they  saw  no  rights  but  their  own.  They 
were  frequently  imposed  upon,  in  the  childishness  of 
their  trust,  and  they  became  suspicious  of  all.  But 
in  their  cowardly  slyness,  as  we  now  call  their  strata- 
gems, some  of  the  old  attributes  must  have  survived, 
for  the  very  reason  that  the  brave  of  to-day  has  in 
some  things  a  likeness  to  the  Avarrior  of  a  century 
ago.  He  endures :  that  is  the  likeness  to  his  pro- 
genitor which  survives  and  renders  him  above  scorn 
for  treachery  and  utter  profligacy. 


THE  INDIAN  SCO  UT.  85 

The  writer  has  in  his  hands  a  little  pamphlet, 
written  by  an  adjutant  in  a  Western  military 
reserve,  and  circulated  by  his  superior  officer,  de- 
scribing a  peculiar  dance  which  he  witnessed  in  the 
Unquepapa  country,  where  he  was  stationed  in  1871. 
Some  of  the  features  of  this  ghastly  saturnalia  are 
gleaned  from  it  here  as  a  sample  of  human  endur- 
ance. 

The  sunflower  dance  is  one  of  the  most  impor- 
tant dances  or  ceremonies  among  the  American 
Indians,  and  at  this  dance  new  braves  are  admitted 
to  an  equality  with  those  already  proved  as  braves, 
who  are  called  soldiers  or  principal  warriors,  and 
have  an  extra  lodge — a  large  wigwam — in  every 
big  tribe,  where  no  women  are  admitted,  and  where 
they  hold  their  councils.  It  is  called  the  "sunflower 
dance"  on  account  of  the  season  in  which  it  occurs, 
that  is,  in  the  month  of  June  or  July,  when  the  river 
edges  are  decked  with  a  species  of  sunflower  which 
the  Indian  maidens  use  for  decorating  themselves 
on  this  occasion. 

The  ground  chosen  for  the  dance  is  a  level 
stretch  of  land  without  tree  or  shrub,  except  one 
young  ash  of  about  thirty  feet  high,  and  devoid  of 
limbs  and  branches  for  twenty  feet  from  the  ground. 

A  short  distance  from  this  ground  the  narrator 
referred  to  saw  several  Indian  grave-mounds,  raised 


86  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

on  high  sticks  above  the  ground,  and  each  covered 
with  red  and  white  blankets.  Skeletons  of  horses 
were  lying  at  the  foot  of  some  of  the  graves,  indi- 
cating that  some  one  held  specially  dear,  as  mother, 
father,  great  warrior,  or  pretty  w^oman,  is  buried 
there. 

It  is  the  custom  among  these  Indians  to  kill 
a  fine  horse  or  a  good  mule  on  the  graves  of  their 
best  friends,  and  give  in  this  manner  the  coyote 
and  buzzard  a  feast,  to  keep  them  for  awhile  from 
attacking  the  bodies  of  the  beloved  ones.  In 
communities  of  brave,  simple  people,  however,  even 
from  Homer's  time,  animals  belonging  to  the  dead 
have  been  slaughtered,  and  w^ith  a  noble  and  more 
poetic  meaning  than  the  one  quoted  above,  which 
may  be  only  as  the  practical  white  American  under- 
stood it. 

About  11  A.M.  the  Indians  began  to  assemble 
from  all  parts  of  the  country,  almost  all  on  horses 
or  ponies,  the  men  and  women  riding  alike,  astride. 

The  spectators  posted  themselves  on  the  nearest 
liills,  from  which  they  could  best  see  the  proceedings. 
Those  more  immediately  concerned  in  the  dance 
dispersed  themselves,  parading  over  tlie  festival 
grounds,  all  gayly  dressed,  and  exhibiting  on  poles 
their  enemies'  scalps.  After  gravely  taking  wliifFs 
from  a  pipe,  which  was  passed  from  hand  to  hand, 


THE  INDIAN  SCO  UT,  87 

and  blowing  the  smoke  in  two  streams  from  tlie 
nostrils,  and  raising  their  heads  to  the  sun,  by 
which  they  meant  to  offer  a  sacrifice  of  incense  to 
the  Great  Spirit  above,  a  drum  w^as  placed  in  the 
centre  of  the  braves,  and  each  warrior  produced  a 
thin  ash  branch,  one  end  decorated  with  red  ribbon. 
The  women  sat  on  the  ground,  forming  an  outer 
circle  around  the  warriors,  and  began  to  sing,  the 
men  beating  the  drum. 

A  chief,  named  Kill  Eagle,  now  rose  from  the 
ground,  and  stood  looking  around  him  for  some 
time  in  mute  dignity,  until  a  silence  as  of  death 
prevailed.  He  stands  still,  scanning  the  multitude 
for  perhaps  ten  minutes ;  he  does  not  speak,  yet  the 
people  evince  no  impatience — they  are  as  still  as 
the  hills  around  them. 

At  length  the  chief  begins  to  speak  in  low  but 
impressive  tones,  which  become  louder  as  he  pro- 
ceeds, and  furious  and  menacing  as  his  subject 
affects  him.  The  substance  of  his  discourse,  which 
lasted  more  than  an  hour,  being  the  past  glories  of 
the  Sioux  nation,  the  triumphs  of  their  fathers  in 
war  and  in  the  chase;  the  courage  displayed  by  his 
people,  and  their  honorable  deaths  in  battles  against 
their  foes;  or  in  their  lodges  in  their  old  age,  sur- 
rounded by  their  children  and  the  scalps  of  their 
enemites. 


88  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

He  did  not  want  his  young  men  to  think  that 
he  alluded  to  his  white  brethren,  with  whom  he 
desired  his  people  to  be  at  peace,  as  it  is  the  wish 
of  the  Great  Father  that  they  should  live  as  brothers. 
But  he  meant  those  thieving,  robbing  Indians  of 
other  tribes,  whom  it  would  please  the  Great  Spirit 
that  they  should  punish  for  past  crimes,  such  as 
stealing  their  horses,  carrying  off  their  young  women 
to  other  tribes,  and  killing,  when  they  could,  any 
hunter  of  his  people  whom  they  might  find  alone 
on  the  prairie. 

To  punish  those  bad  men  they  should  have 
brave  men ;  and  as  the  number  of  his  braves  was 
getting  small,  through  the  death  of  those  lost  in 
battle  and  from  old  age,  he  wanted  young  blood  in 
their  braves,  to  uphold  the  honor  of  his  nation. 
They  did  not  want  women  to  do  their  lighting,  nor 
men  with  women's  hearts  in  their  bosoms,  but  men 
of  tried  courage  and  bravery. 

He  said  that  any  of  his  young  men  that  wished 
to  prove  themselves  as  braves  might  prove  it  as 
their  fathers  before  fhem  had  done;  that  any  of 
them  that  did  not  feel  his  heart  big  should  stay 
among  the  women,  and  those  who  did  come  for  trial 
should  remember  that  the  eyes  of  their  fathers, 
mothers,  sisters,  sweethearts,  and  friends  would  be 
upon  them.  * 


THE  INDIAN  SCOUT.  89 

He  said  they  should  prove  theraselves  as  men 
able  to  endure,  as  brave  men  would  do;  that  the 
Great  Spirit  despises  cowards,  and  forever-  banishes 
them  from  the  happy  hunting-grounds. 

The  time  has  sped  on,  and  it  is  half-past  twelve 
now,  and  further  crowds  by  this  time  have  streamed 
in. 

The  medicine-man  now  stands  up  and  calls  the 
young  men  who  are  anxious  for  the  trial. 

About  sixty  stahvart  young  Indians  from  differ- 
ent parts  of  the  crowd  now  enter  the  ring  and 
throw^  ofi*  their  blankets.  These  are  the  candidates. 
Drums  beat,  squaw-s  sing;  each  youth  has  a  wreath 
of  green  leaves  placed  upon  his  head ;  the  pipe  is 
passed  around  ;  four  warriors  step  into  the  ring,  two 
carrying  lassoes ;  the  first  two  approach  the  line  of 
3"oung  men  leading  forth  the  first  to  the  stake,  and 
the  medicine-man  throws  the  youth  on  his  back 
on  the  ground. 

The  medicine-man  bending  over  the  prostrate 
man  cuts  two  slits  in  his  right  breast,  about  an  inch 
apart  and  three  inches  long,  and  the  blood  flows 
freely  and  trickles  to  the  ground  Then  he  cuts 
two  more  slits  in  the  left  breast  like  those  in  the 
rig] it,  running  the  knife  up  and  down  under  the 
skin  to  raise  it  from  the  flesh.  Next  the  end  of  a 
lariat  is  passed  under  the  skin,  drawn   across  the 


90  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

breast  and  passed  under  the  skin  of  the  other  cut, 
and  drawn  so  far  through,  as  is  sufficient  to  knot  it 
to  the  other  part  of  the  lariat  in  front  of  the  breast. 

He  is  then  fastened  by  the  lariat  to  the  bare  ash- 
tree  and  is  expected  to  free  himself  by  breaking  the 
holds  on  his  breast,  for  he  cannot  break  the  lariat. 
He  pulls  and  pulls,  yells  and  jumps,  but  the  skin  is 
tough.  The  crowds  scream  with  delight.  He  tries 
again,  and  breaks  one  hold. 

The  loss  of  blood  and  the  pain  w^eakens  him 
and  he  seems  doomed.  But  two  stout  warriors  seize 
him  by  the  shoulders  and  fling  him  from  them 
with  ponderous  force  until  they  break  the  other 
hold. 

He  rises  from  the  ground,  picks  up  his  blanket 
coolly,  and  retires. 

The  next  young  man  steps  forward.  He  has 
cuts  made  in  the  calves  of  his  legs  to  which  are 
fastened  the  skulls  of  buffalo-heads,  and  he  is  left 
to  dance  and  jump  about  till  he  breaks  loose  from 
the  skulls. 

One  young  Unquepapa  Sioux  was  so  eager  to 
distinguish  himself,  that  when  he  came  to  the  trial 
he  walked  in  between  four  posts,  having  two  in 
front  and  two  in  the  rear,  and  had  four  holes  cut  in 
his  breast,  and  four  in  his  two  shoulders;  through 
each  of  these  holes  a  lariat  is  drawn  and  fastened 


THE  INDIAN  SCO  UT.  91 

to  the  posts,  having  about  three  feet  of  the  lariat 
slack  to  allow  him  to  move  back  and  forth.  He 
began  to  jump  and  leap,  sometimes  straining  on 
the  lariat  in  front,  and  then  on  the  ones  fastened  to 
his  back;  at  other  times  jumping  high,  bringing 
the  strain  equally  on  all  the  fastenings.  So  he 
continued  to  jump  and  leap  thus,  like  some  wild 
animal  trying  to  leap  out  of  a  trap,  for  perhaps  a 
half-hour,  but  could  not  get  one  of  the  fastenings 
loose,  and  at  last  he  fainted  from  pain  and  loss  of 
blood. 

A  crowd  of  warriors  gathered  around  him  and 
soon  restored  him  to  consciousness  by  pouring  cold 
water  over  him. 

The  lariats  are  still  fastened  to  him,  none  daring 
to  loosen  them,  unless  he  desires  it  himself,  or  until 
he  dies.  He  is  very  weak  now  and  is  not  able  to 
make  any  more  efforts  to  free  himself. 

He  calls  for  his  horse,  a  stout  snow-white  Indian 
pony,  which  is  now  brought  into  the  ring,  and  two 
of  the  lariats  are  unfastened  from  two  of  the  posts 
in  his  rear,  and  fastened  to  the  pommel  on  the 
saddle  on  the  horse's  back.  The  horse  is  turned 
from  him  and  gets  a  cut  with  a  whip  from  one  of 
the  warriors,  and  makes  a  leap  forward. 

These  two  lariats  tear  out  from  the  young 
brave's  back,  and  he  is  lifted  up  from  the  ground 


92  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

where  he  has  tumbled,  and  the  other  lariats  fastened 
to  the  saddle. 

Then  the  horse  is  cut  again  with  the  whip,  and 
runs  and  pkniges,  and  the  young  brave  is  free. 

He  is  picked  up  by  some  warriors  and  carried 
from  the  ring,  to  all  appearances  dead,  amid  grunts 
of  approval. 

This  is  the  dance,  as  it  is  called,  which  causes  the 
mothers  and  fathers  of  the  competing  braves  to  feel 
for  many  days  prior  to  the  trial  uneasy  for  fear  of 
their  sons  failing  to  come  off  creditably  to  their  man- 
hood. 

And  these  mothers,  w^ishing  to  show  that  they 
share  their  sons'  sufferings,  often  have  half  a  dozen 
cuts  made  across  their  arms  and  breasts  at  the  time 
their  offspring  are  under  the  torture. 

But  the  young  man  who  presents  himself  for  such 
trial  and  has  not  the  courage  to  carry  it  through  is 
cut  loose  from  his  fastening  with  the  knife;  he  must 
give  up  all  his  horses,  that  greatest  pride  of  the 
Indian ;  and  should  he  be  a  chiefs  son  his  heredi- 
isiYj  title  is  taken  from  him.  He  cannot  join  any 
w^ar  or  hunting  party,  nor  can  he  wear  those  orna- 
ments that  distinguish  a  brave,  such  as  eagle 
feathers  or  council  dresses,  and  he  is  no  more 
considered  in  the  tribe  than  a  woman,  until  such 
an  occasion  as  the  present  is  offered  again,  when  he 


THE  INDIAN  SCOUT.  93 

has  another  chance  to  redeem  himself  as  a  man  and 
a  warrior. 

And  this  after  all  the  intermixture  with  civiliza- 
tion and  its  modes  and  chances  to  make  life  easy 
and  to  shirk  traditional  duties  and  consequences! 

A  hundred  years  ago,  and  at  the  period  with 
which  this  part  of  this  narrative  deals,  the  endur- 
ance was  there;  but  the  perverted  nature  was 
fresher  from  the  source  of  perversion,  more  deadly 
because  of  ihe  newness  of  the  perversion,  than  it  is 
now  when  savage  life  is  only  so  by  the  protection  of 
laws  of  civilization.  The  state  of  the  country  and 
the  unprotected  condition  of  the  people  Avere  to  a 
great  degree  the  impetus  to  get  back  possessions 
which  the  red  man  claimed  as  his  own  still,  and  to 
get  them  back  the  vaunted  civilizing  reason  must 
not  be  called  into  play,  for  reason  had  done  little 
but  defraud  them  of  what  they  now  determined  to 
have  again.  So  they  resolved  to  deal  with  the 
whites  as  they  would  with  beasts  of  prey,  and  the 
whites  learned  to  look  upon  the  Indian  as  a  reptile, 
possibly  as  a  lion  regards  a  viper. 

"  You  cannot  reason  with  an  Indian,"  says  a 
writer  of  the  times ;  "  he  will  listen  to  you  with  due 
attention,  whittling  a  stick  as  he  does  it,  nods  his 
head,  and  grunts  approval.  The  stick  ho  is  whit- 
tling is  an  arrow  with  which  to  pierce  your  heart 
when  you  have  done  speaking." 


94  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

A  missionary  speaking  with  a  young  brave  about 
the  wrong  of  his  present  line  of  action  was  rejoiced 
to  see  the  red  man  hold  down  his  head  and  come 
before  him  submissively. 

"  You  are  sorry  for  what  you  have  done  ?"  asked 
the  missionary. 

The  Indian  gave  a  grunt  of  affirmation. 

"You  wish  to  change  your  mode  of  life?" 

The  same  grunt  of  affirmation. 

"  You  wish  me  to  extend  the  right  hand  of  fellow- 
ship and  acknowledge  you  a  member  of  the  family 
of  God's  children?" 

A  third  time  the  Indian  gave  his  grunt  of  appro- 
val, and  came  closer  yet. 

"Then,"  said  the  missionary,  "let  my  red  brother 
approach  me,  feeling  sure  that  his  sins,  though  they 
be  as  scarlet,  shall  be  made  white  as  the  driven  snow. 
Let  my  red  brother  give  to  mo  the  tomahawk  in  his 
hand." 

"  My  white  brother  can  have  it,"  said  the  savage, 
raising  his  head  for  the  first  time — raising  his  hand 
at  the  same  time  to  bury  the  tomahawk  in  the  brain 
of  the  missionary. 

To  be  as  deceptive  and  treacherous  as  an  Indian, 
in  the  eyes  of  the  white  settlers,  was  eminently 
necessary  for  self-protection. 

The  Indians  sent  forth  spies  in  every  direction, 


THE  INDIAN  SCO  UT.  95 

and  the  wary  white  man  never  passed  a  day  with- 
out feeling  assured  that  his  most  secret  acts  were 
that  night  chronicled  and  commented  en  around 
wigwam  fires  amid  the  dusky  shadows  of  the  woods. 

This  organized  system  of  Indian  spies  placed  the 
settlers  in  the  hands  of  the  savages,  and  a  reaction 
was  necessary,  an  offset  to  counteract  the  baneful 
effect. 

That  counteraction  came  suddenly,  and  effect- 
ually, in  the  person  of  the  Indian  scout. 

He  was  not  a  scout,  a  murderer  from  choice, 
because  he  wished  a  change  from  the  monoton}^  of 
life;  the  times  allowed  of  little  monotony.  More 
often  than  otherwise  he  was  the  victim  of  some  base 
outrage  at  the  hands  of  the  red  man,  entailing  the 
loss  of  wife,  child,  parent,  or  all  together;  and 
instead  of  the  love  for  those  now  dead  implacable 
hatred  found  a  place  in  the  breast. 

There  is  the  story  of  a  man  who,  out  hunting 
one  day,  came  home  at  night  and  entering  his  cabin 
found  no  light  there,  and  called  aloud  to  his  wife 
and  children,  but  received  no  response.  He  knew 
that  he  must  wait  until  morning  to  know  what  had 
become  of  them;  so  all  night  long  he  paced  up  and 
down  within  the  narrow  confines  of  the  one  room. 
In  the  early  light  of  dawn  he  saw  upon  the  wall  of 
the  room  he  had  walked  for  hours  in  the  darkness 


96  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

the  hanging  and  mutilated  bodies  of  his  family, 
suspended  by  spikes  through  their  hands.  That 
man  became  a  scout. 

Another  man  saw  his  youngest  child  dashed  to 
pieces  from  a  rock  where  an  Indian  ran  with  it, 
pursued  by  the  father.  That  man  also  became  a 
scout. 

A  short  time  after  the  murder  of  John  Wetzel 
and  capture  and  escape  of  the  boys  a  conclave  of 
settlers  was  called  in  Wheeling  one  morning.  They 
met  with  closed  doors. 

In  the  midst  of  a  harangue  urging  the  necessity 
of  more  protection  against  the  hordes  of  wandering 
Indians  the  door  noiselessly  opened  and  some  one 
entered. 

The  little  place  was  crowded,  and  so  intent  were 
the  men,  that  they  hardly  knew  of  the  entrance  of 
any  one,  till,  working  his  way  through  them,  a 
young  man,  a  mere  boy,  stood  before  the  officers  of 
the  meeting. 

He  was  a  dark  faced  lad,  his  eyes  gleaming,  his 
hair  matted  with  neglect  and  forest  dews  and  even 
then  remarkably  long  and  black. 

"  I  wish  to  proclaim  myself  an  Indian  scout,"  he 
said  to  the  astonished  men. 

One  of  them  took  him  by  the  shoulder.  "  How 
did  you  dare  to  come  here  ?"  he  asked. 


TEE  INDIAN  SCO  VT.  97 

The  lad  shook  off  the  hand. 

"  Will  you  recognize  me  as  a  scout?"  he  asked. 

"  Boy,  do  you  know  what  you  say  ?"  returned  one 
of  the  elders. 

"  I  wish  to  become  a  scout !" 

"Go  away!"  commanded  the  elder;  "you  are  a 
boy  with  a  foolish  man's  tongue.  You  are  dazed 
by  the  talk  of  those  around  you.  The  life  you 
would  lead  is  not  all  of  romance.     Go  home !" 

"  Home!"  echoed  the  lad  bitterly.  "  Do  you  know 
where  my  home  is — that  I  have  a  home?" 

"Go  to  your  father  then,  and  bid  him  keep  a 
stricter  watch  over  you." 

"  Go  to  my  father  ?  I  wish  I  could  !"  said  the  boy 
in  louder  tones  and  resisting  those  who  would  have 
silenced  him.  "  I  tell  you  I  have  no  father ;  he  is 
dead ;  I  wish  to  hunt  down  his  murderers — and  I 
will  do  this  whether  you  recognize  me  as  a  scout  or 
not.  Only  I  felt  that  a  man  as  old  as  my  father 
was  should  sanction  what  I  do." 

The  men  were  quieter  now  around  him  and  did 
not  offer  to  turn  him  away. 

The  president  of  the  meeting  said,  not  unkindly : 

"  I  am  sorry  for  you,  my  lad.     But  if  you  loved 

your  father  properly  you  would  know  that  murder 

and  blood  would  scarcely  purify  your  memory  of 

him.     Doubtless  your  love  has  crazed  you." 
9 


98  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  I  am  sane." 

"  Wait  then,  my  lad,  until  a  time  when  you  are 
calm." 

"  Calm !"  he  cried.  ''  I  shall  never  be  that  until  I 
avenge  my  father." 

" '  Vengeance  is  mine,'  saith  the  Lord." 

But  the  lad  did  not  heed  him,  but  stood  panting 
before  them  all,  clutching  his  musket  up  to  his 
breast,  his  nerves  alert,  his  head  thrown  back. 

"My  mother  used  to  read  that  when  I  had  a 
home,"  he  said.  "You  speak  of  the  love  I  may 
have  had  for  my  father.  You  do  not  know  how  I 
loved  him ;  nor  do  I.  I  only  know  that  the  loss  of 
him  has  killed  whatever  "made  me  love  him.  It  is 
also  thus  with  my  brothers.  We  were  a  strong, 
loving  family.  We  were  happy,  careless  boys ;  my 
father's  death  has  made  us  reckless  men. 

"My  father  came  from  his  birth-place,  where 
everything  was  well  known  and  where  he  had 
toiled  and  troubled  for  years ;  he  came  out  to  these 
wilds  to  encounter  willingly  far  greater  toils  and 
troubles  to  secure  to  us  children  ease  and  comfort. 
Our  father  died  in  attempting  this  for  us. 

"  Our  mother  was  a  brave  woman  who  cared  for  no 

possible  trouble;  she  never  quailed  in  difficulty  and 

distress,  which  was  often  all  around  her.     She  loved 

my  father :  that  made  her  brave.    My  father's  death 

\ 


THE^INBIAN  SCOUT.  99 

has  made  her  a  weak,  trembling,  frightened  woman. 
She  saw  him  die.  She  is  broken,  and  her  bravery 
died  with  what  gave  it  to  her — our  father.  We 
wish  to  avenge  a  brave  mother.  Does  not  the  Bible 
say  '  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth?'  Did  not 
the  Bible  men  avenge  their  fathers  and  mothers 
and  ruined  homes  ?  Is  not  Christianity  avenging 
by  civilization  the  murder  of  Christ  ?  You  have  no 
right  to  deny  me  that  which  the  Lord  tells  me  is  my 
right,  not  merely  my  privilege." 

The  men  looked  at  him  in  astonishment.  Never 
before  had  a  boy  spoken  thus  before  men, — a  boy 
reared  in  these  wilds  at  that, — a  boy  who  had  been 
educated  only  from  the  Bible.  They  could  not  treat 
him  as  a  boy.  That  speech  earned  for  him  the 
respect  due  to  a  man.  It  seemed  almost  as  though 
he  pleaded  for  his  father's  life,  as  though  the  privil- 
ege to  hunt  down  the  Indians  were  a  prescription 
that  would  restore  his  dead  father  to  life. 

There  was  a  kindling  in  the  eyes  of  those  about 
him.  But  the  boy  minded  not  that — only  his  desire 
for  respect,  for  his  preferred  calling  was  uppermost 
in  his  mind,  and  all  things  else  meant  nothing. 

"Sit  down!"  said  the  president,  pushing  a  chair 
towards  him.  The  lad  seemed  not  to  hear  him,  and 
continued  standing.  What  answer  ought  they  to 
give  a  boy  with  noble  instincts  but  perverted 
reasoning  ? 


100  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

"  Who  was  your  father  ?"  at  last  asked  the  presi- 
dent. 

"He  was  John  Wetzel;  he  helped  to  found  this 
place,"  said  the  lad. 

There  was  a  murmur.  Half  the  men  there  had 
known  John  Wetzel  personally,  at  one  time  or 
another. 

The  president  of  the  assembly  himself  was  not  a 
stranger  to  the  reckless  man  who  had  withstood  the 
advice  of  his  friends  and  chose  to  settle  beyond 
their  reach  and  protection.  He  looked  down  at  the 
lad,  standing  before  him,  and  could  not  but  feel 
that  John  Wetzel's  death  had  .been  not  altogether 
as  other  men's — he  had  seemed  to  purchase  it  by 
his  very  hardihood.     But  what  of  the  lad  ? 

Whatever  the  president  might  have  said  was 
unavailing,  for  he  looked  into  the  eyes  of  those 
around  him  and  saw  but  one  answer  to  the  prayer 
of  the  boy  who  stood  there :  the  boy  was  not  to  be 
treated  as  a  child.  There  was  the  respect  due  to  a 
man  which  he  claimed  and  meant  to  obtain. 

There  were  cries  of  "  Treat  the  boy  square  I  Don't 
go  agin  the  lad." 

**  Go !"  said  the  president  to  him.  "  You  may  do 
what  you  think  best." 

"  Do  3^ou  give  me  the  privilege  of  a  scout  ?"  per- 
sisted the  boy. 


THE  INDIAN  SCO  UT.  101 

"You  are  too  young "  began  the  president, 

when  his  voice  v/as  drowned  by  cries  of  "  Give  it  to 
him  I     Give  it  to  him !'' 

"Very  well,  Lewis  Wetzel," said  the  president,  "we 
recognize  you  as  an  Indian  scout,  and  here's  my 
hand  on  it." 

He  held  his  hand  out,  but  the  lad  seemed  not  to 
see  it. 

Shouldering  his  old  musket,  he  w\alked  through 
the  lane  made  by  the  men,  without  a  word,  unlatched 
the  door,  and  walked  away.  Straight  on  he  walked, 
and  the  men  gazing  after  him  were  silent  as  he. 

He  went  determinedly  to  his  mother  and  told  her 
what  he  meant  to  do,  and  left  her  trembling  and 
weeping. 

"He  did  not  even  kiss  me,"  she  mourned;  "and 
he  was  always  the  most  affectionate  of  the  children. 
And  he  was  always  the  leader.  If  he  goes,  his 
brothers  w^ll  not  long  remain  here  with  me.  I  shall 
be  a  widow  and  childless;  my  brave  boys  wull  not 
close  my  eyes  in  death,  and  I  have  tried  to  be  a 
good  mother  to  them.  It  is  bitter,  bitter !  All  my 
energy,  all  my  life,  is  gone  from  me.  Oh  for  the 
old  time  of  my  early  married  life !  Oh  for  the  time 
w^hen  that  boy  rested  a  babe  in  his  cradle  in  the 
poor  little  home  faraway!  Oh  for  the  time  when 
his  father  asked  me  would  I  come  here,  or  stay  in 


102  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

the  home  that  had  known  us  both  so  long!  Better 
had  we  died  among  friends,  though  poor,  than  to 
die  here!  For  are  w^e  richer  here?  Is  there  as 
much  mine  now  as  there  was  when  I  had  my  one 
cow  and  two  pigs  ?" 

"  But  he's  gone  because  he's  brave,"  said  a  little 
maiden  weeping  with  her  and  her  little  girls.  It  was 
little  Berta  Rosencranz. 

But  no  grief  could  bring  him  back  again,  no 
prayers  avail  to  turn  from  his  purpose  the  boy  whose 
mind  was  so  steadily  set  towards  revenge.  His  little 
sisters  had  gathered  about  the  disconsolate  woman, 
and  w^ere  holding  to  her  in  perturbation,  not  yet 
accustomed  to  the  change  in  her,  but  doubtless  w^on- 
dering  where  was  the  active,  tearless  mother  of  old. 

Berta  had  run  to  the  Avindow^  though,  and  was 
straining  her  neck  far  out  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
boy  now  far  off. 

"  I  see  him  !"  she  cried ;  "  he's  going  through  the 
grass  towards  the  river."  Then  he  disappeared  from 
her  eyes. 

He  took  the  trail  that  led  to  his  old  ruined  home, 
and  went  and  sat  there  and  looked  on  the  charred 
embers  that  alone  remained  to  tell  the  story  of  one- 
time slielter  and  love.  Ho  sat  there  until  night, 
drinking  in  all  the  sense  of  desolation,  no  longer  a 
boy,  but  a  man,  with  a  wronged  man's  deadly  sense 
of  one  never-dying  purpose. 


THE  INDIAN  SCO  UT.  103 

And  at  that  same  time,  with  his  lonely  mother,  the 
bright-eyed  maiden  sat  and  soothed,  with  pretty 
words,  the  older  woman's  sorrow. 

"  I  should  be  proud  of  him,"  said  the  girl. 

"  Not  if  you  were  a  mother,"  sobbed  the  woman. 

"If  I  were  ten  times  a  mother,"  said  the  girl,  "I 
should  be  glad  to  know  that  all  my  sons  avenged 
their  father's  death.  What  are  women  for  if  they 
cry  because  a  man  steps  up  and  defends  them?  If 
I  were  a  man,  I'd  do — I'd  do " 

"What  would  you  do?"  complained  the  mother. 
"Would  you  break  your  mother's  heart?  That  is 
what  children  do  most  of  all." 

"Then  mothers  ought  to  get  tougher  hearts,  if 
they  know  what  they've  got  to  expect.  If  I  was  a 
mother  ten  times  over,  I'd  be  tougher  every  time  a 
child  would  rise  up  to  protect  me.  And  if  I  was  a 
man  I'd  do  as  Lewis  Wetzel  has  done — I'd  be  where 
Lewis  Wetzel  is  at  this  moment." 

"And  where  is  he?"  asked  the  mother.  Thereat 
the  girl  threw  herself  into  the  woman's  arms,  weep- 
ing her  pretty  eyes  dull  with  a  passion  of  fruitless 
tears. 

But  no  sound  of  all  this  reached  the  man  who 
caused  it,  as,  sitting  before  the  ruins  of  his  one-time 
home,  he  let  the  desolation  of  the  scene  enter  into 
his  soul  like  the  iron  into  his  of  sacred  story. 


104  LEWIS  WETZEL. 


CHAPTER  VL 

MAKTIN    WETZEL. 

"YTET  of  Lewis  Wetzel  no  specially  remarkable 
action  is  recorded  from  the  time  of  his  escape 
from  Indian  captivity  till  the  year  1782,  when  he 
was  eighteen  years  old.  It  would  seem  that  he 
disappeared  from  the  eyes  of  those  who  knew^  him, 
until  he  could  command  a  man's  attention.  His 
boyish  strength  may  not  have  been  sufficient  for  his 
would-be  enterprise.  And  doubtless  he  recognized 
the  fact,  and  daily  increasing  his  bodily  endurance 
patiently  w^aited  for  the  coming  of  manly  vigor 
which  should  gain  him  the  vengeance  he  desired. 
He  said  in  after-years  that  this  waiting  time  was 
the  discipline  of  his  life. 

There  were  raids  on  the  red-skins  all  around  him 
when  he  again  appeared,  and  he  took  a  general  part 
in  them,  and  never  save  in  company  with  others; 
but  nothing  w^as  done  to  distinguish  him  from  the 
other  half-wild  boys  of  the  settlers,  who  fought,  like 
him,  for  the  honor  and  safety  of  those  most  dear  to 
them, — these  boys  who  so  often  did  the  work  of  men 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  105 

in  tilling  the  soil  and  tracking  the  game  necessary 
for  the  daily  food  of  the  families. 

Logan  ^vas  the  second  son  of  Shikellimus,  and 
this  is  the  same  person  whom  Heckewelder  describes 
as  "  a  respectable  chief  of  the  Six  Nations,  who 
resided  in  Shamokiii,  Pennsylvania,  as  an  agent  to 
transact  business  between  them  and  the  government 
of  the  State.'' 

In  1747,  at  a  time  when  the  Moravian  mission- 
aries were  the  object  of  much  groundless  hatred  and 
accusation,  ShikelHmus  invited  some  of  them  to 
settle  at  Shamokin,  and  they  did  so.  When  Count 
Zinzendorff  and  Conrad  Vv^eiser  visited  the  place, 
several  years  before,  they  were  very  hospitably 
entertained  by  the  chief,  who  came  out  to  meet  them 
(says  Loskiel)  with  a  large,  fine  melon,  for  which  the 
count  politely  gave  him  his  fur  cap  in  exchange ; 
and  thus  commenced  an  intimate  acquaintance. 

Logan  was  a  shrewd  and  sober  man,  not  addicted 
to  drinking,  like  most  of  his  countrymen,  because 
he  never  wished  to  become  a  fool.  Indeed,  he  built 
his  house  on  pillars,  for  security  against  the  drunken 
Indians,  and  used  to  ensconce  himself  within  it  on 
all  occasions  of  riot  and  outrage. 

Logan  inherited  the  talents  of  his  father,  but  not 
his  prosperity.  Nor  was  this  altogether  his  own 
fault.      He    took   no   part,   except    that   of   peace- 


106  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

maker,  in  the  French  and  English  war  of  1760, 
and  was  ever,  before  and  afterwards,  looked  upon  as 
emphatically  the  friend  of  the  white  man.  But 
never  was  kindness  rewarded  like  this. 

The  countless  stories  that  have  come  down  to  us 
relative  to  this  chief  are  doubtless  not  unknown  to 
many  who  read  this  narrative.  For  scarcely  a  book 
that  refers  to  Indian  life  is  complete  without  a  story 
or  anecdote  of  Logan.  Yet  one  that  has  received  little 
attention,  if  any,  came  to  the  present  writer  from 
the  lips  of  an  old  trapper,  whose  father  had  told  it 
to  him  one  day  when  they  entered  their  claim  for  a 
tract  of  land  upon  which  had  once  stood  the  cabin 
of  the  chief,  no  traces  of  which  were  now  to  be  seen 
amid  the  rank  vegetation  that  covered  the  place. 

Logan  had  built  his  house  and  had  moved  his 
family  into  it,  trying  to  live  like  the  civilized  white 
men.  He  had  made  three  chambers  in  the  house, 
one  for  himself  and  his  wife,  a  second  for  that  of  his 
children,  while  a  third  was  reserved  for  any  chance 
stranger,  Indian  or  white  man,  who  might  crave 
shelter  at  his  hands. 

The  trial  must  have  been  severe;  four  close  walls 
were  suffocating  to  a  man  who  had  doubtless  rarely 
slept  under  a  roof  before,  and  in  whose  veins  ran 
the  blood  of  an  ancestry  that  had  known  nothing 
of  houses.     But  he  was  determined  to  act  like  a 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  107 

civilized  man,  and  to  represent  the  progressive 
element  of  the  times.  For  nights  he  never  slept, 
and  he  could  hear  his  wife  complaining  at  his  side  ; 
while  in  the  adjoining  chamber  the  rest  of  the  family 
were  moving  about  discontentedly.  After  a  repeti- 
tion of  such  a  night  on  five  successive  occasions, 
Logan  arose  at  last  one  night,  after  tossing  about  for 
hours,  and,  hearing  no  sound  from  his  wife,  who 
had  laid  herself  upon  the  floor  to  tr}^  and  snatch  a 
little  sleep,  which  the  newness  of  a  bed  had  destroyed, 
he  concluded  that  she  was  happily  resting. 

"Lucky  woman,"  he  said.  He  moved  carefully 
about.  He  was  determined  to  sleep,  too,  but  he 
could  not  sleep  under  a  roof.  Cautiously  going  to 
the  hole  that  served  for  a  window,  he  threw  himself 
out  upon  the  ground,  dragging  his  blanket  after 
him,  and,  reaching  a  little  hollow  in  the  ground 
formed  by  the  trunks  of  some  massive  trees,  he  laid 
himself  down  for  a  nap. 

But  he  made  up  his  mind  not  to  sleep  long,  for 
the  wife  and  family  must  not  know  of  this  proceed- 
ing, as  he  had  determined  when  he  built  the  house 
that  civilization  must  be  followed,  and  that  no 
infringement  upon  it  dare  be  allowed.  He  would 
rest  for  an  hour  or  so,  and  then  he  would  regain  the 
house  and  nobody  be  the  wiser. 

It  was   comfortable  here   on   the  hard   ground, 


108  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

beneath  the  twinkling  stars,  the  free,  fresh  breezes 
fanning  his  face  and  entering  his  nostrils.  How  he 
enjoyed  that  sleep!  He  slept,  at  least,  as  he  thought 
he  had  never  slept  before ;  certainly  as  he  had  not 
slept  since  his  house  had  been  built.  How^  long  he 
slept  he  did  not  know.  He  woke  with  a  start.  The 
day  w^as  breaking,  and  in  the  east  a  faint  pink  glow 
was  spreading  like  the  blush  of  a  baby  over  the  clear 
sky.  He  gathered  his  blanket  around  him,  and  ran 
precipitately  toward  the  house.  Suppose  he  had 
been  missed !  If  any  of  those  inside  knew  of  this 
escapade,  there  w^ould  be  no  discipline  of  civilization 
thereafter. 

But  none  of  those  inside  were  to  know.  For,  on 
nearing  the  place,  in  the  faint,  early  light,  he  saw  a 
shadow  upon  the  w^all.  He  looked  up,  and  there 
was  his  wife's  blanket  hanging  over  the  eaves,  wdiile 
one  foot  peeped  down  at  him:  she  had  got  up  in 
the  night  and  sought  the  roof  for  a  bed.  He  was 
startled;  but  he  was  startled  the  more  wdien,  on 
hearing  a  suppressed  yaw^n  near  at  hand,  he  looked 
about  him  and  saw  suspended  from  the  window 
of  the  second  chamber  two  blanketed  forms, — the 
other  members  of  the  family. 

The  story  does  not  go  on  to  say  how  insomnia 
under  a  roof  was  cured  after  this.  But  it  is  known 
that  this  same  house  was  presented  by  Logan  to  the 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  109 

missionaries,  and  was  held  by  them  while  the  family 
of  the  chief  went  farther  up  the  country  and  built 
another  house  there. 

This  second  house  claiming  the  admiration  of  the 
missionaries,  it  was  likewise  presented  to  them.  The 
houses  had  been  built  with  great  exertiou,  and 
months  had  been  taken  up  in  their  construction. 
But  so  reverently  did  the  chief  regard  the  men  who 
had  come  to  instruct  the  savage  tribes  and  teach 
them  the  truth  of  a  God  who  kept  not  perpetual 
hunting-grounds  as  a  reward  for  the  brave  men  he 
called  children,  but  who  held  in  reserve  peace  and 
rest  for  oppression,  and  long-suffering  for  those  who 
did  their  best  towards  establishing  peace  and  rest 
upon  the  earth,  that  he  regarded  his  own  worldly  pos- 
sessions as  nothing  if  they  could  contribute  to  the 
comfort  of  these  teachers  .of  the  universal  religion. 

Logan  and  his  family  worked  for  the  white 
teachers,  gave  them  of  their  substance,  and  pro- 
tected them  from  the  incursions  of  warriors  who  did 
not  understand  the  teachings  other  than  as  further 
modes  of  cheating  and  getting  the  upper-hand. 
Logan  stood  the  friend  of  these  savages,  too,  how- 
ever, and  tried  to  make  them  comprehend,  and 
pitied  them  when  they  could  not,  as  in  very  many 
instances  was  the  case.     The  settlers  knew  of  all 

this,  and  regarded  Logan  kindly, 
10 


110  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

This  was  the  man  Lewis  Wetzel  haa  heard  of  all 
his  life,  and  had  been  taught  to  believe  in  implicitly. 
But  now  he  doubted  him  and  classed  him  with  the 
other  red  men,  his  sworn  enemies,  whom  he  meant 
to  kill.  And  others,  too,  now  saw  as  he  did.  For 
events  had  been  represented  to  the  simple  settlers  in 
such  a  perverted  form  that  rage  burned  in  the  bosoms 
where  affiliation  had  long  endeavored  and  desired 
to  assert  itself. 

In  the  spring  of  1774  a  robbery  and  murder 
occurred  in  some  of  the  w^hite  settlements  on  the 
Ohio  which  were  charged  to  the  Indians,  though, 
perhaps,  not  justly,  for  it  is  well  known  that  a  large 
number  of  civilized  adventurers  were  traversing  the 
frontiers  at  this  time,  who  sometimes  disguised  them- 
selves as  Indians,  and  who  thought  little  more  of 
killing  one  of  that  people  than  of  shooting  a  buffalo. 
A  party  of  these  men,  land-jobbers  and  others, 
undertook  to  punish  the  outrage  in  this  case,  accord- 
ing to  custom  (as  Jefferson  says  in  his  Notes),  in  a 
summary  way. 

Colonel  Cresap,  a  man  infamous  for  the  many 
murders  he  had  committed  on  that  much-injured 
people,  collected  a  party  of  white  men  and  went  in 
quest  of  vengeance.  A  canoe  of  women  and  children 
was  seen  coming  down  the  Kanawha,  and  there  was 
laughing  and  happiness,  the  little  floating  party  not 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  Ill 

at  all  suspecting  an  attack  from  the  whites.  Cresap 
and  his  party  concealed  themselves  on  the  bank  of 
the  river,  and  the  moment  the  canoe  reached  the 
shore,  singled  out  their  objects,  and  at  one  fire  killed 
every  person  in  it. 

This  happened  to  be  the  family  of  Logan,  inno- 
cent and  friendly  inclined.  Shortly  after  this, 
another  massacre  took  place,  not  far  from  Wheel- 
ing; a  considerable  party  of  the  Indians  being 
decoyed  by  the  whites,  and  all,  with  the  exception 
of  a  little  girl,  murdered.  Among  these,  too,  were 
both  a  brother  of  Logan  and  a  sister,  the  delicate 
condition  of  the  latter  increasing  a  thousand-fold 
both  the  barbarity  of  the  crime  and  the  rage  of  the 
survivors  of  the  family. 

Logan,  therefore,  came  sternly  from  his  cabin, 
w^here  he  had  meant  peace,  and  distinguished  him- 
himself  by  his  daring  and  bloody  exploits  in  the 
war  which  now  ensued  between  the  Virginians  on 
the  one  side  and  a  combination  of  Shawnees,  Min- 
goes,  and  Delawares  on  the  other.  The  civilized 
party  prevailed,  as  usual,  and  wiped  out  a  consider- 
able number  of  Indians.  But  "  many  of  their  dead 
they  scalped,  rather  than  we  should  have  them," 
says  the  white  historian;  and  naively  goes  on  to 
narrate :  "  but  our  troops  scalped  upwards  of  twenty 
of  those  who  were  first  killed." 


112  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Thus  did  the  superior  whites  imitate  what  they 
looked  upon  with  abhorrence  at  the  hands  of  the 
base  savage.  It  was  at  the  treaty  after  this  battle 
that  Logan,  the  much-injured  man,  made  this  noble 
speech : 

"  I  appeal  to  any  white  man  to  say  if  he  ever 
entered  Logan's  cabin  hungry,  and  he  gave  him  not 
meat;  if  he  ever  came  cold  and  naked,  and  he 
clothed  him  not.  During  the  course  of  the  last 
long  and  bloody  war,  Logan  remained  idle  in  his 
cabin,  an  advocate  for  peace.  Such  was  my  love 
for  the  whites,  that  my  countrymen  pointed  as  they 
passed,  and  said :  '  Logan  is  the  friend  of  white 
men.'  I  had  even  thought  to  have  lived  with  you, 
but  for  the  injuries  of  one  man.  Colonel  Cresap, 
the  last  spring,  in  cold  blood  and  unprovoked,  mur- 
dered all  the  relations  of  Logan,  not  sparing  even 
my  women  and  chiklren.  There  runs  not  a  drop 
of  my  blood  in  the  veins  of  any  living  creature! 
This  called  on  me  for  vengeance.  I  have  sought 
it;  I  have  killed  many;  I  have  fully  glutted  my 
vengeance.  For  my  countr}^  I  rejoice  at  the  beams 
of  peace.  But  do  not  harbor  a  thought  that  mine 
is  the  joy  of  fear.  Logan  never  felt  fear.  He  will 
not  turn  on  his  lieel  to  save  his  life.  Who  is  tLcro 
to  mourn  for  Logan? — Not  one  !" 

The  eloquence  in  this  speech  is  incomparable. 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  113 

No  wonder  the  man  was  called  a  prophet !  He  was 
a  man  in  advance  of  his  times,  and  the  times  were 
sufficiently  startling  for  the  settlers,  and  they  had  not 
the  leisure  nor  inclination  to  study  out  the  excel- 
lences of  one  character  when  they  had  all  the}"  could 
do  to  subvert  the  evil  intentions  of  characters  less 
prone  to  good.  He  stood  alone,  aloof  from  friends  an  d 
foes,  unknowing  friends,  with  foes  on  every  side.  It 
is  probable  that  his  own  blood  hated  him  more  than 
the  strangers  did ;  he  represented  the  progressive 
element,  and  such  an  element  must  ever  appear 
more  aggressive  to  friends  who  do  not  partake  of  it 
than  to  foes  who  are  in  a  like  state  of  ostracism  from 
its  influence.  If  the  man  understood  his  own  incli- 
nations, it  is  as  much  as — indeed,  more  than — could 
have  been  expected  of  him  in  the  minds  of  calm, 
rational  reasoners. 

In  the  most  peaceful  and  settled  age,  when  art 
and  science  both  contend  to  make  thought  the 
common  property,  a  new  element  appearing  creates 
in  the  minds  of  the  mass  a  wonder  not  unmixed 
with  ridicule.  Any  subversion  of  established  usage 
excites,  first,  opposition,  which  means  oppression ; 
then  ridicule,  which  is  the  loosening  of  the  oppres- 
sion, and  the  establishing  of  the  principle  upon  the 
plane  of  equality;  then  adoption  of  the  principle, 
which  is  its  elevation  to  superiority  over  its  sur- 
roundings. 


114  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Logan  thus  represented  principle,  but  it  is  doubt- 
ful if  he  ever  got  beyond  the  first  grade,  that  of 
oppression,  with  his  fellows.  He  had  every  right  to 
look  to  civilization  to  uphold  him,  but  the  acts  of  his 
own  people  had  caused  civilization  to  pause;  and 
a  pause  in  any  attempted  improvement  is  a  retrogres- 
sion. He  appealed  to  the  white  settlers;  he  said 
that  he  wanted  to  be  as  they  were ;  he  wanted  their 
sympathies  and  their  most  thoughtful  encourage- 
ment. He  claimed  a  standing  with  them  because 
he  knew  the  workings  of  his  own  mind,  and  wdiat 
he  most  deserved  at  the  hands  of  the  whites. 

But  what  could  such  noble  words  mean  to  the 
uncultivated  settlers?  They  had  received  too  much 
wrong,  vengeance  intended  for  aggressors,  not  them- 
selves, to  see  any  nobility  in  any  red  man.  Logan 
represented  merely  one  of  his  abhorred  race.  They 
knew  far  more  of  the  wrongs  they  themselves  had 
suffered  than  of  the  deceits  practiced  upon  the 
Indians,  for  with  the  honest  settler  there  was  too 
much  to  do  about  his  own  little  preserve  for  him  to 
bother  himself  even  with  deceit  to  the  savages.  And 
so  Logan  might  speak  of  the  loss  of  his  family,  but 
had  they  not  lost  families  too?  How  could  Logan's 
empty  wigwam  appeal  to  the  boy  Lewis  AVctzcl? 
There  were  not  even  the  blackened  walls  of  his  own 
happy  home  remaining  and  heavy,  tall  grass  oblit- 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  115 

erated  the  very  landmarks  his  father  had  set  up  by 
dint  of  months  and  years  of  toiL  And  what  of 
Logan's  murdered  family?  Where  was  the  father 
who  had  been  watched  for  day  after  day,  month 
after  month,  year  after  year,  by  the  boy  on  the  little 
green  knoll  ? 

The  line  of  argument  most  popular  at  this  time 
was : 

"  Can  w^e  trust  Logan  T 

"Can  Indians  be  trusted?" 

"  They  cannot." 

"  Therefore  we  cannot  trust  an  Indian." 

"  Must  we  pity  Logan  ?" 

"Do  Indians  pity  us?" 

"  They  do  not." 

"  Therefore  we  cannot  pity  an  Indian." 

"But  should  not  Logan,  at  least,  be  tolerated?" 

"What  is  toleration?  It  is  trust  and  pity.  To 
tolerate  Logan  is  to  trust  and  pity  an  Indian." 

The  boy  Vretzel  heard  all  such  arguments  around 
him,  and  was  too  young  to  understand  anything  but 
the  rights  of  the  settlers  which  had  been  infringed 
upon  and  violated  by  Indians.  He  bated  a  word 
i:i  ilivcr  of  the  red  man;  he  is  known  to  have 
cii^-Ligcd  in  bitter  quarrels  witli  pcor-lo  who  advo- 
cated a  peaceable  adjustment  of  dimculties.  For 
peace,  meant  a  giving-in,  an  acknowledgment  that 


116  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

the  Indian  had  not  been  treated  fairly;  when,  in 
fact,  the  Indian  had  been  treated  so  fairly  that  he 
was  allowed  to  live,  and  every  white  man's  hand  by 
ri gilts  ought  to  be  raised  against  a  red  man. 

"  It  must  not  be !"  he  said ;  "  it  shall  not  be !  When 
my  time  comes  it  will  not  be.  There  is  no  peace  for 
an  Indian  but  what  a  bullet  gives  him." 

So  Lewis  Wetzel  bided  his  time  and  waited  for  a 
man's  strength. 

And  it  was  even  as  the  mother  had  said.  Martin, 
too,  was  bent  on  revenge.  An  expedition  was  set  on 
foot  in  1780  to  j)roceed  against  and  destroy  the 
Indian  towns  situated  on  the  Coshocton,  a  small 
branch  of  the  Muskingum  Kiver.  The  main  place 
of  rendezvous  was  Wheeling.  Colonel  Brodhead,  a 
soldier  of  more  than  local  distinction,  assumed  the 
command.  Martin  Wetzel  was  a  volunteer  in  the 
campaign.  The  officers  of  those  wild  frontier  armies 
were  too  often  only  such  in  name;  for  every  soldier 
under  them  acted  as  seemed  right  in  his  own  judg- 
ment and  particular  case. 

Cheered  out  of  Wheeling,  this  little  army  of  four 
hundred  men  immediately  took  up  the  line  of  march 
and  went  forward  rapidly  in  order  to  fall  upon  the 
Indian  towns  by  surprise,  and  before  any  of  the  red 
spies,  ever  on  the  alert,  should  apprize  the  aggressed 
of  the  approach  of  foes. 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  HJ 

Colonel  Brodhead,  taking  his  men  secretly  along, 
soon  surrounded  one  of  the  Indian  towns  before 
those  inside  were  at  all  aware  of  the  proximity  of 
any  danger. 

"  Every  man,  woman,  and  child  were  made  pris- 
oners, without  the  firing  of  a  gun."  (Pritt's  Border 
Life.) 

We  read  further  on  :  "  Among  the  prisoners  were 
sixteen  warriors.  A  little  after  dark  a  council  of 
war  was  held  to  determine  on  the  fate  of  the  war- 
riors in  custody.  They  were  doomed  to  death,  and 
by  the  order  of  the  commander  were  bound,  taken 
a  little  distance  below  the  town,  and  dispatched 
with  tomahawks  and  spears,  and  then  scalped." 

The  first  tomahawk  raised  was  in  the  hand  of 
Martin  Wetzel. 

In  the  grim  work  of  death,  with  a  kind  of  fiendish 
pleasure,  he  sunk  into  the  heads  of  the  unresisting 
Indians  a  weapon  which  in  hands  like  theirs  had 
caused  the  death  of  his  father. 

For  the  tomahawk  was  as  much  used  by  the 
whites  as  by  the  red  men,  and  with  an  equal 
dexterity. 

"Early  the  next  morning  an  Indian  presented 
himself  on  the  opposite  bank  of  the  river  and  asked 
for  the  '  Big  Captain.'  Colonel  Brodhead  presented 
himself,  and  asked  what  the  Indian  wanted.  To 
which  he  replied :  ^  I  want  peace/ 


118  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  ^  Send  over  some  of  your  chiefs,'  said  Brodhead. 

" '  Maybe  you  kill,'  said  the  Indian. 

"  He  was  answered :  '  They  shall  iiot  be  killed. 

''One  of  the  chiefs,  a  good-looking  man,  came  over 
the  river,  and  entered  into  conversation  with  the 
commander  in  the  street;  but,  while  engaged  in 
conversation,  Martin  Wetzel  came  up  behind  him 
with  a  tomahawk  concealed  in  the  bosom  of  his 
hunting-shirt,  and  struck  him  on  the  back  of  the 
head. 

"  The  poor  Indian  fell,  and  immediately  expired. 

"This  act  of  perfidy  and  reckless  revenge  the  com- 
mander had  no  power,  if  he  had  had  the  disposi- 
tion, to  punish,  as  probably  two-thirds  of  the  army 
approved  the  treacherous  deed." 

The  next  day  the  army  commenced  its  retreat 
from  Coshocton. 

Colonel  Brodhead  committed  the  prisoners  to  the 
militia. 

They  were  about  twenty  in  number. 

After  they  had  marched  about  half  a  mile,  the 
men  commenced  killing  them. 

Again  was  the  deadly  weapon  of  Martin  Wetzel 
crimsoned  with  the  blood  of  his  life-long  foes. 

And,  like  his  younger  brother,  such  was  his 
indomitable  spirit  of  revenge  that  no  i)lace  nor 
circumstance  was  sacred  enough   to  preserve  the 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  119 

life  of  an  Indian  when  once  within  his  grasp,  and 
the  word  "  treachery"  was  never  employed  by  the 
settlers  in  any  act  that  decoyed  an  Indian  into  their 
power. 

In  a  short  time  they  were  all  dispatched  except  a 
few  women  and  children,  who  were  spared  aiid 
taken  to  Fort  Pitt,  and  after  some  time  exchanged 
for  an  equal  number  of  their  prisoners. 

Some  years  after  this  horrible  bloodthirsty  action, 
but  which  in  the  eyes  of  the  settlers  the  circum- 
stmces  of  the  time  seemed  to  render  unavoidable, 
Martin  Wetzel,  hunting  in  the  forest,  was  surprised 
and  taken  prisoner  by  a  party  of  predatory  Indians. 

He  remained  with  them  a  considerable  length  of 
tin:ie,  and  by  his  great  cheerfulness  and  apparent 
satisfaction  disarmed  their  suspicion,  acquired  much 
of  their  confidence,  and  was  adopted  into  one  of 
their  families,  as  vras  £on:ietimcs  the  case  when  the 
mode  of  savage  life  seemed  congenial  to  a  captive. 

But  all  this  seeming  gratification  Avas  the  veriest 
dissimulation;  although  Martin  AVctzel  showed  a 
cheerful  countenance,  in  his  heart  was  the  brooding 
spirit  of  revenge,  and  plans  for  his  escape  engaged 
every  minute  of  his  captivity. 

Tie  desired,  too,  to  niake  that  escape  memorable 
by  some  tragic  action  of  revenge. 

How  much  ho  overreached,  by  his  acting,  tho 
credulity  of  his  entertainers,  the  sequel  will  show. 


120  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

He  was  to  all  intents  and  purposes  free;  he  hunted 
with  them,  he  danced  and  frolicked,  and  appeared 
thoroughly  satisfied  w^ith  the  course  affairs  had 
taken,  never  showing  distaste,  although  the  Indians 
knew  who  he  was  and  what  had  been  the  fate  of  his 
father. 

In  the  fall  of  the  year  his  dread  chance  came. 

He  and  three  young  chiefs  set  out  to  make  a  fall 
hunt  to  supply  the  winter  stores  of  flesh. 

They  pitched  their  camp  near  the  head  of  the 
Sandusky  River. 

During  the  hunting  he  was  careful  to  return  to 
the  camp  in  the  evening,  prepare  the  wood  for  the 
night-fire,  and  do  all  the  other  duties  of  camp 
necessity;  for  he  knew  that,  although  he  was 
trusted,  his  companions  were  ever  on  tl*e  alert,  and 
that  maybe  he  had  been  taken  on  this  hunt  merely 
to  test  the  truthfulness  of  his  protestations,  and 
should  any  slip  occur  he  would  suff'er  for  it. 

By  the  line  of  conduct  which  he  adopted  he 
lulled  any  suspicion  they  might  have  entertained 
of  him,  and  little  by  little  he  saw  the  half-averted 
glance  of  discretion  give  way  to  open  looks  of  full 
confidence. 

One  evening,  while  hunting  and  belated,  he  came 
across  one  of  his  Indian  camp-mates. 

The  Indian  was  full  of  their  mutual  exploits,  and 
praised  the  white  man's  wondrous  aim. 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  121 

"  My  father  taught  me,"  said  Martin  sententious! y. 

The  Indian  looked  at  him,  for  he  knew  the  tale 
of  John  Wetzel's  fate. 

But  Martin's  face  was  calm  and  unperturbed,  and 
the  chief  went  on  with  his  talk. 

The  white  man  "svatched  for  a  favorable  oppor- 
tunity, and,  the  Indian's  attention  being  called  in  an 
opposite  direction,  he  shot  him  down,  scalped  him, 
and  threw  his  body  into  a  hole  made  by  the  tearing 
up  of  a  tree  by  the  wdnd,  and  covered  the  motionless 
form  with  logs  and  brush. 

He  then  hurried  to  the  camp,  and  prepared  the 
wood  for  the  night-fire  as  usual. 

When  night  came  down,  and  the  missing  one  not 
returning,  Martin  expressed  great  concern  at  the 
absence  of  their  companion. 

"  Does  my  white  brother  w^orry  about  a  warrior?" 
laughed  one  of  the  Indians. 

For  they  did  not  appear  in  the  least  out  of  counte- 
nance or  disconcerted  on  account  of  the  non-arrival 
of  the  other,  and  dismissed  the  subject  entirely  from 
their  minds  as  too  trivial  to  entertain,  ate  their 
supper,  and  lay  down  to  sleep. 

Martin  had  gone  too  far  now  to  retreat.  He  lay 
down  with  the  others,  but  sleep  was  never  further 
from  his  brain.  The  two  Indians  were  soon  uncon- 
scious. Being  now  determined  at  all  hazards  to 
11 


122  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

escape,  the  question  for  Martin  AVetzel  to  decide  in 
his  mind  was  whether  he  should  attack  hoth  Indians 
while  they  slept,  or  watch  for  an  opportunity  of 
dispatching  them  one  at  a  time. 

The  latter  plan  seemed  likelier  to  thwart  fdUire. 
Early  the  next  morning  he  prepared  to  execute  his 
desperate  plan.  He  was  still  apparently  anxious 
ahout  the  continued  absence  of  the  chief,  who  had 
failed  to  come  last  night. 

"  It  makes  my  white  brother  whiter,  this  fear," 
again  laughed  one  of  the  remaining  Indians,  look- 
ing on  the  pallid  and  set  face  of  the  determined 
man. 

Wetzel  made  no  reply,  merely  turning  away. 
Then  the  two  red  men  set  out  on  their  hunt  alone, 
while  death  pursued  them  in  the  shape  of  Martin 
AVetzel,  creeping  like  Fate  through  the  brush  after 
them.  All  day  he  followed  stealthily,  keeping  them 
in  view.  Towards  night  he  came  boldly  up  to  them, 
and  began  speaking  and  asking  about  their  day's 
sport.  One  of  the  Indians  sauntered  off,  and  Martin 
detained  the  other  over  some  imaginary  game  until 
his  fellow  was  far  away.  Then,  with  one  fell  sweep 
of  the  tomahawk,  he  laid  the  red-skin  lifeless  on  the 
ground. 

"This  for  my  father!"  he  said,  and  scalped  the 
savage  and  threw  the  body  into  a  sink-hole,  and 


MARTIN  WETZEL.  123 

made  his  way  through  brake  and  briar  to  the  camp 
to  meet  the  remaining  Indian. 

He  had  not  come  when  Martin  arrived  there,  and, 
throwing  branches  on  the  fire,  he  sat  down  and 
waited,  and  soon  saw  the  brave,  by  the  light  of  the 
fire,  now  fiercely  flaming,  coming  slowly  on  with  a 
burden  of  game  thrown  across  his  shoulders.  With 
a  strange,  half-stifled  cry  of  joy,  the  white  man  hur- 
ried forward,  under  the  pretense  of  aiding  in  dis- 
encumbering the  hunter  of  his  load. 

"  Stoop  !"  he  said ;  "  stoop  !" 

When  the  Indian  stooped  down  to  have  the  game 
detached  from  his  back,  tlie  tomahawk,  already  so 
imbrued  with  the  blood  of  his  kin,  sunk  into  his 
brain,  and  Wetzel  stood  alone  in  the  blackness  of 
the  night,  guiltless  in  his  own  eyes.  There  was  no 
danger  of  pursuit,  so  he  proceeded  very  leisurely, 
and  packed  up  whatever  of  the  camping  imple- 
ments he  deemed  he  most  needed  and  could  most 
conveniently  carry,  and  made  his  way  to  the  white 
settlements  wdth  the  three  Indian  scalps  dangling 
from  his  belt  of  wampum,  after  an  absence  of  a 
year.  Those  who  saw  him  coming  over  the  hills* 
and  recognized  him,  despite  his  Indian  trappings, 
cheered  and  greeted  him  as  a  hero.  For  the  men 
who  rid  the  country  of  a  pest  and  protected  other- 
wise defenseless  women  and  children  were  the  right 


124  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

arm  of  the  law,  the  strength  of  an  exposed  people. 
What  they  did,  by  whatever  means  they  succeeded, 
could  not  be  thought  other  than  brave,  the  risks  of 
success  alone  being  considered,  let  alone  their 
willingness  to  endure  for  the  sake  of  those  they 
resolved  should  endure  no  suffering. 

Thus  Martin  Wetzel's  acts  of  comparative  perfidy, 
as  it  seems  to  us  afar  off,  could  meet  w^ith  nothing 
but  the  approval  of  his  countrymen  upon  this  and 
similar  occasions,  and  the  greater  his  ingenuity  and 
cunning  to  meet  a  like  ingenuity  and  cunning,  the 
greater  the  meed  of  praise  and  approval. 


A  MASSACRE,  125 


CHAPTER  VII. 

A  MASSACRE. 

A  T  last,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  and  when  his  oath, 
if  it  were  yet  remembered  in  the  community, 
was  thought  of  as  the  mere  explosive  impulse  of  a 
boy,  and  his  seeking  for  the  title  of  scout  but  a  like 
impulse,  Lewis  Wetzel  comes  upon  the  stage,  a  man, 
hardened  by  enforced  exposure,  strong  of  sinew, 
stern  of  mind, — a  warrior. 

He  was  moulded  of  the  stuff  that  makes  men 
gods  in  the  eyes  of  their  contemporaries,  and  the 
question  naturally  arises,  whether,  had  the  cause  of 
his  provocation  been  directed  at  another  time  and 
season,  and  against  a  more  civilized  people,  he  would 
not  have  lived  in  the  annals  of  history  a  figure  for 
the  admiration  of  future  ages,  instead  of  gaining 
the  mere  local  fame  of  a  harassed  and  nervous  com- 
munity. 

His  bravery  was  never  questioned,  his  endurance 
was  marvelous,  his  intensity  and  perseverance  un- 
surpassed, his  cool-headedness  and  calmness  in 
refusing  to  wreak  his  vengeance    upon   those   in 


126  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

liis  power,  unless  they  were  of  his  sworn  enemies 
and  men,  proved  the  attributes  of  a  successful 
general  and  an  idol  of  a  thinking  people.  But 
tlie  people  who  most  relied  upon  him  were  more 
active  than  thoughtful,  more  grim  than  senti- 
mental; and  while  he  defended  them  they  con- 
sidered that  he  was  revenging  his  own  wrongs;  and 
while  they  admired  him  they  resolved  that  had 
they  felt  as  he  did  their  acts  would  have  been  as 
his.  They  did  not  deprecate  him ;  they  appreciated 
him  to  the  full.  But  he  was  only  one  of  themselves. 
They  had  known  him  from  his  earliest  childhood. 
His  bravery  was  often  said  to  be  mere  recklessness 
of  consequences,  and  to  idolize  the  man  would  have 
been  to  fall  down  and  worship  qualities  wdiich  every 
man,  as  wrought  upon  as  he,  possessed  in  common 
with  him. 

Those  who  saw  him  come  into  Wheeling  in  the 
spring,  when  he  had  turned  his  eighteenth  year, 
described  him  as  being  a  harsh-featured  man,  taci- 
turn, and  not  given  to  indiscriminate  conviviality. 
He  joined  in  none  of  the  few  enjoyments  which 
mankind,  no  matter  how  oppressed  and  overridden, 
will  institute;  he  rarely  held  converse  with  those 
about  him.  But  chihh'cn  and  dogs  loved  hiin,  and 
women  pitied  him,  as  women  so  often  will  lind  a 
subject  for  pity  in  what  men  call  uncongenial  and 
above  or  beneath  them. 


A  MASSACRE,  127 

Again  must  old  Eberly  come  to  the  fore:  "Lewis 
Wetzel,"  lie  writes  on  the  leaves  of  coarse  paper 
which  are  now  crumbling  and  difficult  to  tran- 
scribe, "  is  not  so  bad  as  hee  is  represented.  Ilee  is 
often  where  there  is  sickness,  and  a  man  that  had 
small-pox*  had  no  other  nurse,  and  no  one  knew  it 
until  the  man  hee  was  well  once  more." 

He  appears  to  have  loitered  about  the  settlements 
for  awhile,  and  then  he  saw  his  chance.  He  enlisted 
as  a  soldier  in  that  disastrous  campaign  of  Colonel 
Crawford  in  1782.  His  mother,  hearing  of  this 
enlistment,  paid  little  attention  to  it. 

"He  never  minded  me,"  she  said,  "and  he  don't 
care  if  I  am  murdered,  so  that  he  can  go  do  murder 
himself  It  is  his  place  to  stay  here  and  protect  me 
and  his  sisters,  and  provide  a  home  for  us,  instead 
of  doing  as  he  does.  Are  there  no  other  men  to  do 
the  work?  We  have  suffered  enough,  I  should  hope. 
I  have  no  patience  with  him." 

This  change  from  her  old  life  of  bravery  was  only 
another  impulse  to  lead  her  son  away  from  her  to 
revenge  the  brave  woman  she  had  once  been,  and 
who  had  now  sunk  into  the  ntterer  of  chronic  com- 
plaints, never  weary  of  lauding  her  dead  husband's 
virtues  and  comparing  them  to  tlie  lack  of  thein  in 
her  sons.  She  was  never  to  gauge  the  feelings  of  a 
mind   like   that  of  her  son — how  many  of  those 


128  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

around  him  did?  He  was  one  of  many — that  was 
all  they  saw. 

It  is  said  of  him  that  he  had  placed  a  pile  of 
stones  on  the  spot  where  his  father's  body  had  lain 
in  the  grass  after  the  murder,  and  this  shrine  he 
appeared  to  regard  with  something  of  the  supersti- 
tion of  the  Indians  themselves.  lie  did  not  offer 
propitiatory  sacrifice  upon  it,  it  is  true,  but  when  he 
was  tired  out  and  breathless  from  any  exertion  he 
had  taken  in  order  to  test  his  strength  he  would 
wend  his  way  to  this  pile  of  stones  almost  as  tliough 
he  went  to  conciliate  his  father's  troubled  spirit  that 
might  not  rest  until  it  was  avenged. 

Under  this  pile  of  stones,  too,  it  is  also  asserted, 
he  had  contrived  a  receptacle  for  his  powder  and 
bullets,  and  he  made  his  bullet-moulds  here  and 
heated  the  lead  upon  the  pile.  Often  at  night 
there  would  be  seen  the  little  thread  of  flame  leap- 
ing from  the  pyramidal  heap  as  he  poured  his 
metal  and  shaped  the  leaden  messengers  of  death. 

The  Indians  saw  that  flame,  we  may  be  sure,  and 
investigated  it.  Whether  they  understood  it  or  not 
is  not  for  us  to  say;  but  it  is  also  said  in  tradition 
tluit  the  savages  rarely  came  into  the  immediate 
vicinity  of  that  stone  heap,  and  that  more  than  one 
brave  has  been  seen  speeding  away  in  the  darkness 
when  he  had  come  to  ascertain  the  meaning]:  of  the 


A  MASSACHE.  129 

weird  light  and  found  a  haggard  boy  silently  stand- 
ing before  the  flame,  his  face  stern  as  Fate  and  as 
relentless.  He  had  thousands  of  bullets  stored  away 
in  this  place,  and  when  he  left  the  neighborhood  the 
settlers  were  at  liberty  to  help  themselves  to  what 
remained. 

This  was  when  he  was  as  yet  young  and  the  time 
was  heavy  on  his  hands ;  when  he  had  grown  older, 
he  had  more  to  do  than  spend  his  days  in  idle  pour- 
ing of  lead ;  he  then  deemed  that  the  mound  was 
sentimental,  and  so  he  tore  it  apart  and  scattered 
the  stones.  At  the  time  of  Crawford's  expedition  he 
had  obliterated  this  mark  of  his  memory  of  his 
father. 

He  had  now  gained  a  man's  strength,  a  man's 
steadiness  of  nerve  and  purpose,  if  he  had  lacked 
these  last  two  essentials  before. 

As  a  short  preliminary  to  Crawford's  failure,  it 
may  be  well  to  speak  briefly  of  the  events  which 
led  to  this  campaign,  in  which  the  Moravian  Indians 
were  so  terribly  avenged. 

Somewhere  about  the  year  1772  some  devout 
Moravian  brethren  succeeded,  after  untold  hard- 
ships, in  establishing  a  little  Indian  community 
which  embraced  the  faith  and  collected  in  three 
villages  on  the  Muskingum.  " 
^    The  villages  were  known  as  Schoenbrunn,  Salem, 


130  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

and  Gnadenhuetten.  Here  they  lived  amicably 
with  all  men,  the  precepts  of  the  Mingo  chief, 
Logan,  entreating  them  to  give  up  war  and  culti- 
vate the  soil. 

Their  number,  increased  by  new  accessions,  in  a 
short  time  was  not  less  than  four  hundred  souls. 

They  thus  occupied  a  position  midway  between 
the  advanced  posts  of  the  whites  and  the  camping- 
grounds  of  some  of  the  hostile  Indians,  and,  prac- 
ticing a  quiet,  peaceful  demeanor,  hateful  alike  to 
their  white  and  red  neighbors,  they  were  accused 
alternately  by  each  of  privately  favoring  the  other. 

In  the  latter  part  of  the  year  1781  the  bands  of 
militia  of  the  frontier  came  to  the  determination  to 
break  up  these  peaceful  Moravian  towns.  They 
were  called  the  ^'  half-way  house  of  the  warriors," 
and  the  term  was  used  in  deadly  derision  by  the 
fierce  and  lawless  frontiermen,  who  despised  the 
peaceable  Indians  for  supposed  treachery  because 
they  opened  their  doors  alike  to  every  comer. 

A  detachment  of  men,  under  the  command  of 
Colonel  David  Williamson,  went  out  from  the  border 
with  the  avowed  intention  of  inducing  the  Indians 
by  calm  reasoning  to  move  farther  off,  with  the 
further  cool  alternative  that  if  they  refused  to 
accede  to  the  militia  they  would  all  be  brought 
prisoners  to  Fort  Pitt. 


\ 


A  MASSACRE.  131 

When  they  arrived  at  the  Moravian  towns,  but 
very  few  Indians  were  found,  and  these  mostly  in- 
firm or  old,  the  main  body  having  removed  to 
Sandusky. 

These  few  remaining  ones  were  taken  to  the  fort 
and  apparently  well  treated  by  the  commandant, 
and  afterwards  they  were  allowed  to  return  to  their 
homes. 

This  manner  of  proceeding  against  the  red  man 
greatly  incensed  the  country  people  who  still  ad- 
hered to  the  rule  of  total  extinction  as  regarded 
Indians  once  reduced  to  captivity. 

Colonel  Williamson,  who,  prior  to  this  episode, 
had  been  one  of  the  most  popular  of  men  on 
account  of  his  brave  war  record,  now  became  the 
object  of  popular  hatred  and  suspicion,  and  his 
leniency  towards  the  Moravian  Indians  was  held 
up  as  his  reproach,  and  wholly  obliterated  his  well- 
known  bravery. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  peaceably  inclined  In- 
dians fell  under  the  dire  suspicion  of  the  Indian 
warriors  who  had  been  pressed  into  the  service  of 
the  British  against  the  colonies,  or  States,  as  they 
now  began  to  be  called,  and  also  of  the  English 
commandant  stationed  at  Detroit.  To  this  com- 
mandant it  was  viciously  reported  that  the  pious 
teachers  of  these  Moravian  Indians  were  in  close 


132  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

confederacy  with  the  American  Congress,  for  the 
purpose  of  preventing,  not  their  own  people  alone, 
but  likewise  the  Delawares  and  a  few  other  nations 
of  red  warriors,  from  entering  into  war  against  the 
rebelling  American  colonists. 

The  many  and  frequent  failures  of  the  hostile 
Indians  against  the  white  settlements  were  attrib- 
uted to  the  Moravians,  who  sent  runners  to  Fort 
Pitt  to  give  notice  of  their  approach  and  thus  pre- 
pare to  receive  them  ;  and  this  charge  was  certainly 
true.  In  the  spring  of  1781  the  war-chief  of  the 
Delawares  apprised  the  missionaries  and  their  pros- 
elytes of  their  danger,  both  from  the  angry  w'hites 
and  the  hostile  Indians,  and  advised  them  to  remove 
to  a  place  of  security. 

This  advice  was  not  acted  upon,  and  what  the 
chief  prophesied  was  fulfilled  to  the  letter;  for  in 
the  fall  of  that  same  year  (1781)  the  Moravian  settle- 
ments were  burned  by  upwards  of  three  hundred 
Indian  w^arriors,  their  peaceful  villages  laid  w^aste, 
their  smiling  fields  of  grain  desolated,  their  beasts 
taken  from  them,  and  the  bewildered  and  unhappy 
converts  to  Christ  turned  into  the  trackless  wilder- 
ness once  more,  murmuring  against  the  power  of 
the  God  of  the  white  man  for  not  protecting  them 
in  their  time  of  need,  and  doubting  the  good  mis- 
sionaries for  fools  and  madmen. 


A  MASSACRE.  133 

Winter  came  on,  and  they  still  trudged  from 
place  to  place  seeking  staying-ground,  and  finding 
none.  Many  of  them  perished  from  cold  and 
famine.  But  the  tender  teachings  of  Christianity 
could  not  hecome  wholly  erased  from  their  minds, 
and  while  they  felt  degraded  in  the  eyes  of  their 
hostile  red  brothers,  they  yet  looked  upwards  for 
that  aid  and  succor  which  the  missionaries  had  told 
them  would  surely  come,  and  consequently  they 
would  not  disavow  their  belief  and  join  their  savage 
brethren. 

But  the  missionaries  were  not  with  them  now: 
they  had  been  taken  prisoners,  robbed  of  nearly 
everything  they  possessed,  and  then  sent  to  the 
commandant  at  Detroit,  where,  after  being  strictly 
examined  by  a  council  of  British  officers,  they  w^re 
permitted  to  go  free. 

This  removal  of  the  Indians  from  their  peaceful 
Christian  villages  was  instigated  mainly  by  three 
white  men, — Alexander  McKee,  Matthew  Elliott, 
and  the  renegade  Simon  Girty. 

The  hostility  of  these  three  men  fo  the  Americans 
was  unbounded,  and  they  were  continually  (before 
their  plans  reached  fruition)  plotting  the  destruction 
of  the  Christian  Indians  as  the  means  of  inveigling 
the  Delaware  nation  into  a  bloody  war  with  the 
patriot  colonists.  A  plot  was  laid  at  Sandusky  to 
12 


134  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

waj'lay  and  murder  the  missionary  Zeisberger  and 
bring  in  his  scalp;  and  Simon  Girty  himself  con- 
ducted the  party  to  Sandusky  for  that  purpose,  the 
frustration  of  Avhich  chagrined  him  and  added  new 
fuel  to  his  fiery  spite. 

In  the  latter  part  of  February  following,  the  fam- 
ished condition  of  the  Indians  wandering  over  the 
bare  plains  of  Sandusky  compelled  about  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  to  return  to  their  ruined  towns  on 
the  Muskingum  to  try  and  find  among  the  deso- 
lated hearth-stones  a  few  remnants  of  their  once 
plentiful  stores  of  food  for  their  rapidly-starving 
families. 

They  came  in  the  night,  and,  numb  with  the 
piercing  cold,  they  gathered  a  little  wasted  corn. 
They  were  discovered  in  the  morning,  and,  without 
any  further  provocation,  and  wholly  without  resist- 
ance, nearly  a  hundred  of  these  unofi^nding,  starv- 
ing creatures  were  deliberately  murdered — by  white 
men. 

There  had  been  some  murders  committed  by  the 
red  enemies  of  these  peaceable  In\lians,  near  the 
Ohio,  in  the  month  of  February,  and  the  visit  for 
food  to  their  broken  homes  by  the  Moravians 
created  a  pretext  of  charging  them  with  the  crime. 

Accordingly,  between  eighty  and  ninety  men  were 
hastily  gathered  together  and    placed   under  the 


A  MASSACRE.  135 

command  of  Colonel  Williamson,  who  was  told  that 
this  was  his  chance  to  vindicate  himself  in  the  eyes 
of  the  people. 

The  company  encamped  the  first  night  on  the 
Mingo  bottom,  the  west  side  of  the  Ohio,  about 
sixty  miles  below  Fort  Pitt. 

The  second  day's  march  took  them  to  within  a 
mile  or  so  of  the  central  Moravian  town. 

Early  the  following  morning  the  men  were 
divided  in  two  equal  parties,  one  of  wdiich  was 
deputed  to  cross  over  the  river  about  a  mile  above 
the  town.  The  remaining  party  was  cut  up  into 
three  divisions,  one  of  w^hich  was  to  make  a  circuit 
of  the  woods  and  reach  the  river  a  short  distance 
below  the  town,  on  the  eastern  side;  another  divis- 
ion was  to  fall  into  the  centre  of  the  town;  and  the 
third  and  remaining  division  was  to  enter  the 
devastated  place  at  its  upper  end. 

Thus  the  physically  weakened  Indians,  who  had 
embraced  the  faith  professed  by  these  militiamen, 
were  hemmed  in  on  all  sides,  and  while  they 
searched  for  food  to  keep  off  starvation,  they  w^ere 
approached  as  though  they  had  been  tyrants  on  the 
defensive. 

When  sixteen  of  the  party  designed  to  make  the 
attack  had  crossed  the  river,  their  two  sentinels  came 
across  an  Indian  called  Shabosh. 


136  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  man  was  eating  raw  maize.  One  of  the 
sentinels  broke  his  arm  by  a  shot,  but,  heedless  of 
the  pain,  he  kept  cramming  the  maize  into  his  dry 
mouth  with  his  sound  hand,  looking  wildly  about 
him. 

The  other  sentinel  then  fired  and  killed  him. 

The  two  together  then  tomahawked  and  scalped 
him. 

Fearing  that  the  firing  of  the  guns  which  had 
done  this  deed  would  warn  the  Indians  in  the  town 
of  their  approach,  they  went  hurriedly  ta  the  party 
who  were  to  begin  the  attack  and  advised  them  to 
move  on  immediately,  which  was  done. 

In  the  meantime  the  little  party  which  had 
crossed  the  river  marched  to  the  main  town,  on  the 
west  side.  Here  they  found  a  company  of  the  In- 
dians gathering  the  rotting  corn  left  in  their  fields 
when  the  British  Indians  the  previous  fall  had 
driven  them  away. 

The  white  party,  coming  up,  professed  delight  at 
coming  across  the  Christian  Indians  who  had  been 
so  savagely  treated  and  told  them  to  have  no  fear. 

"  Peace  be  with  you,"  said  the  leader  of  the  white 
band ;  "  we  have  come  to  lead  you  to  a  place  where 
all  is  plenty,  and  where  corn  is  wasted  for  want  of 
use.  We  will  take  you  to  Fort  Pitt,  where  friends 
are  waiting  for  you." 


A  MASSACRE.  137 

"  Has  the  peaceable  Indian  a  friend  ?"  asked  an 
Indian  emaciated  and  worn.  ''  Are  not  his  white 
and  his  red  brethren  equally  his  enemies  ?" 

"  Those  enemies  are  not  the  professors  of  a  fiiith 
like  you,"  was  the  reply. 

"And  is  our  faith  yours?"  asked  the  red  man 
eagerly. 

"  Do  we  not  offer  you  shelter  and  food  and  pro- 
tection?" responded  the  white  man. 

The  Indian  looked  wistfully  around  at  his  own 
little  party,  so  cold,  so  sick,  so  famished.  Then  he 
held  his  hand  out  to  the  white  man,  saying : 

"  The  white  man's  God  is  true,  after  all.  We  had 
begun  to  doubt  if  all  the  missionaries  told  Us  could 
be  true.  In  our  desolation  and  wanderings,  thrust 
one  way,  then  another,  we  feared  the  tales  of  a 
guarding  and  forgiving  God  were  but  as  a  legend, 
and  that  He  was  as  revengeful  as  the  Indian's 
*  Manitou.' " 

The  white  man  was  evidently  disconcerted  by  the 
simple  faith  of  the  Indian,  and  he  turned  aside. 
But  the  stern  faces  of  the  men  under  him  left  him 
no  choice. 

"  We  have  no  legends,"  he  said  to  the  Indian ; 
"  we  have  no  souls  that  go  to  birds  and  beasts  at  our 
death,  as  the  tales  of  the  Manitou  have." 

"  The  white  man's  God  takes  the  souls  of  those 
who  trust  in  Him  to  himself"  said  the  Indian. 


138  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Again  the  white  man  turned  away. 

"  Maybe  my  white  brother  never  heard  the  story 
of  the  whip-poor-will?"  said  the  Indian,  smiling 
conciliatorily,  a  bird  far  off  piping  a  melancholy 
note. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  the  white  man;  "the  tale?" 

"  In  a  few  words  I  will  tell  it.  A  white  trader 
sold  liquor  and  beads  to  Indians  for  their  peltries, 
-the  skins  of  the  animals  the  Indians  had  captured. 
It  said  the  white  man  always  made  the  Indians 
drunk  before  he  traded  with  them  and  thus  gained 
advantage  over  them.  The  white  man  was  called 
Wilhelm;  he  was  a  Dutch  settler.  When  the  In- 
dians upbraided  him  because  of  his  perfidy,  he 
would  say :  '  You  can  whip  poor  Wilhelm  if  he  is 
not  honest.'  So  he  went  on  and  prospered  thus, 
and  he  became  very  wealthy  from  the  sale,  at  a 
high  price,  of  the  skins  he  gained  fraudulently. 
For  years  his  lodge  was  visited  by  the  red  men,  and 
each  time  he  made  them  drunk,  and  then  swore 
that  he  had  not  cheated  them,  in  the  same  words: 
*  You  can  whip  poor  Wilhelm  if  he  is  not  honest.' 
At  last,  one  day  when  the  red  men  were  become 
poorer  and  poorer  and  had  no  meal,  no  tobacco, 
and  Wilhelm  had  money  and  glittering  stones  and 
lodges  unnumbered,  a  red  man  came  to  him  toward^ 
the  close  of  an  afternoon  when  the  storm  was  shak- 


A  MASSACRE.  139 

ing  the  tree-tops  and  birds  were  frightened  and  flew 
screaming  through  the  air,  their  feathers  all  broken 
and  ruined.  It  was  dark  and  dismal  around  the 
trader's  lodge,  and  a  pool  of  water  beside  it  was 
black  and  heaving  with  the  wind  that  moaned  and 
shrieked.  The  trader  came  to  the  door  of  his  lodge 
when  he  saw  the  Indian  approaching. 

" '  It  is  an  awful  storm,'  he  said. 

"'Is  not  the  white  man  afraid  of  the  spirit-voices 
abroad?'  asked  the  Indian.  'For  perchance  among 
them  there  is  the  voice  of  a  spirit  which  the  white 
man  loved  not,  and  which  he  treated  unfairly  when 
it  inhabited  the  body  of  flesh.  Is  the  white  trader 
not  afraid  ?' 

"'I  am  afraid  of  neither  man,  God,  nor  devil! 
You  may  whip  poor  Wilhelm  if  he  is,'  said  the 
trader,  laughing,  and  shaking  his  fist  up  to  the  sky. 

"  The  wind  blew  louder  and  louder ;  birds  fell  dead 
at  their  feet.  One  little  bird  was  whirled  through 
the  air  apparently  dead,  but  it  touched  the  Indian 
on  the  eyes  as  it  was  descending,  and  then  it  ap- 
peared to  live,  and  immediately  circled  about  his 
head  and  flew  to  a  tree  above  the  pool  of  black, 
agitated  water. 

" '  The  little  bird  lives,  but  its  voice  is  dead,'  said 
the  Indian  to  the  trader.  '  The  wrath  of  Manitou 
has  ruined  its  voice.' 


140  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

" '  Ha,  ha !'  laughed  the  trader ;  *  the  wrath  of 
Manitou  indeed !  Come,  cliief,  let  me  see  the  pel- 
tries.    Hold  on,  though !' 

"He  went  into  the  lodge  and  brought  forth  a 
bottle  of  fire-water. 

" '  I  want  none/  said  the  red  man.  '  I  can  make 
my  bargain  without  that.' 

"  '  But  I  always  treat/  said  the  trader. 

"  The  red  man,  however,  refused  to  touch  it,  and 
began  to  untie  the  bundle  which  he  had  upon  his 
back.  He  spread  before  the  gloating  eyes  of  the 
trader  such  a  pile  of  skins,  and  of  such  magnificent 
quality,  as  human  eyes  never  before  beheld.  The 
trader  could  not  speak  for  a  few  minutes,  so  lost 
was  he  in  admiration.  And  the  storm  seemed  to 
increase  in  violence,  the  trees  bent  shrieking  to  the 
ground,  the  lodge  shook  on  its  firm  foundations, 
the  door  opened  and  shut  violently,  the  pool  of 
black  water  tumbled  and  tossed,  the  little  voiceless 
bird  fluttered  its  wings  and  flew  incessantly  from  its 
tree  to  the  Indian  as  though  it  wanted  something 
which  he  alone  could  give  it. 

"  When  the  air  was  thick  and  black  and  the  storm 
very  great,  the  trader  suddenly  roused  himself  from 
his  admiration  of  the  skins. 

" '  Drink,'  he  said,  with  trembling  voice,  holding 
out  the  fire-water.  '  I  never  bargain  without  drink. 
It  is  dark,  too,  and  the  drink  will  keep  off*  fear.' 


A  MASSACRE.  141 

"'I  bargain  without  drink/  said  the  red  man. 

" '  It  is  not  good  skins  you  bring,'  said  the  trader. 

" '  You  lie !'  said  the  red  man,  in  a  stern  voice. 

"The  trader  looked  at  him. 

" '  It  may  be  because  it  is  dark  and  I  cannot  see 
well/  he  said.     'And  oh,  do  drink  a  little  rum!' 

" '  If  it  is  too  dark,  behold  the  light,'  said  the  red 
man,  and  struck  upon  a  flint  and  lighted  an  over- 
turned bush,  which,  strangely  enough,  burned 
brightly,  though  it  was  damp. 

"  The  flames  leaped  up,  only  to  show  the  storm  to 
greater  advantage.  The  little  voiceless  bird  hovered 
about  the  flame.  The  flame  shot  its  rays  through 
the  open  door  of  the  lodge  and  lighted  on  huge 
piles  of  gold  which  the  trader  had  been  counting 
when  the  Indian  had  come  up,  making  the  room 
glitter  like  a  fallen  sun.  The  trader  now  closed  the 
door. 

"The  sight  of  his  gold  in  the  light  from  the 
flaming  bush  seemed  to  have  made  him  bolder. 

" '  No,'  he  said ;  '  the  skins  are  very  bad — the  worst 
I  ever  saw.* 

"  *  You  lie !'  said  the  red  man  again. 

"The  trader  leaned  over  the  skins,  exulting,  and 
thinking  he  must  be  bold  indeed  to  bargain  with 
this  chief. 

"'I  will  give  you  a  bottle  of  fire-water  and  a 


142  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

quart  of  beads  for  these/  he  said.  ^They  are  not 
worth  so  much/ 

" '  You  lie !'  again  said  the  red  man. 

"The  trader  looked  up:  the  red  man's  form  had 
expanded ;  it  rose  above  him ;  it  towered  above  the 
highest  trees;  it  seemed  to  reach  the  very  sky  and 
take  away  the  awful  storm-clouds  and  break  and 
crush  them. 

"  Even  in  his  fear  the  trader  defended  himself. 

" '  I  do  not  lie,'  he  said. 

"The  red  man's  hand  caught  up  the  burning 
bush,  and  it  glittered  and  turned  into  a  tomahawk 
in  his  hand.  The  little  voiceless  bird  hovered 
around  the  tomahawk,  pecking  at  it. 

" '  I  do  not  lie!'  now  shrieked  the  trader,  his  voice 
rising  above  the  storm  that  had  burst  in  all  its  fury, 
the  rain  pouring  down,  the  clouds  broken  by  the 
red  man's  head,  the  heavens  seeming  to  war  with 
the  earth ;  the  lodge  rocked  upon  its  foundations, 
the  pool  of  black  water  hissed  and  hissed,  blackness 
all  around,  with  wild  cries  of  animals,  and  the  hiss 
of  snakes  that  crawled  in  fear  even  into  the  lodge. 

"  ^  I  do  not  lie !'  shrieked  the  trader.  '  You  may 
whip  poor  Will ' 

"  He  got  no  further,  his  voice  crying  plaintively 
the  beginning  of  his  common  plea,  for  the  toma- 
hawk of  the  red  man  crashed  through  his  skull, 


A  MASSACRE,  143 

and  he  fell  back  dead  within  the  door  of  his  lodge, 
which  rocked  and  shivered  and  snapped,  and 
pitched  headlong  into  the  black  pool  wdth  all  its 
shining  gold  and  precious  stones,  and  the  pool 
roared  as  though  it  laughed,  and  opened  to  receive 
it  all,  then  closed  over  it  and  grew  black  and  peace- 
ful as  the  storm  rolled  away  and  the  moon  and  the 
stars  came  in  the  sky,  where  the  red  man  had 
ascended  like  a  long  gray  trail  of  smoke. 

"But  all  through  the  dripping  wood,  now  here, 
now  there,  w^as  the  plaintive  cry  of  'whip-poor- 
will,  whip-poor-will.' 

"  It  was  the  voice  of  the  little  bird  that  had  been 
voiceless ;  and  the  last  words  of  the  white  trader  who 
had  so  long  cheated  the  Indians  were  thereafter 
always  loud  in  the  land  at  dark  of  night  or  early 
morning, — a  warning  to  the  world  of  a  soul  that  in 
pain  saw,  when  it  was  too  late,  the  error  of  its  way, 
but  even  at  the  last  could  think  of  no  words  but 
those  of  old  falsehoods,  and  tried  to  cheat  even 
the  Manitou  with  words  that  had  ever  cheated  his 
children.  For  the  huge  red  man  had  been  Manitou. 
That  is  all  the  story.  There ! — there  is  a  whip-poor- 
will.     Hear  it !" 

"  We  have  lingered  too  long,"  said  the  white  man, 
who,  as  the  tale  had  proceeded,  had  gained  com- 
posure ;  "  and  now  come  on." 


144  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  party  then  took  up  the  line  of  march,  the 
Indians  hemmed  in  by  the  militia. 

But  there  was  no  doubting  on  the  part  of  the 
starving  Indians  as  to  the  sincerity  and  good  inten- 
tions of  the  band  of  militiamen  who  had  promised 
them  so  much  and  listened  patiently  to  a  story  of 
their  tribe,  and  they  walked  patiently  along,  after 
delivering  up  to  the  whites  their  scanty  arms  and 
ammunition,  and  thanked  them  over  and  over 
again. 

"  Stop !"  said  the  chief;  "  the  white  brethren  are 
hungry." 

So  the  command  was  given  to  halt,  and  the 
Indians  began  with  all  speed  to  prepare  a  savory 
mess  for  the  friendly  white  men  from  the  little  store 
of  corn  they  had  collected,  and  packed  some  away 
for  the  cold  journey  through  the  biting  blast. 

A  party  of  white  men  and  a  few  Indians  were 
immediately  dispatched  to  Salem,  a  short  distance 
from  Gnadenhuetten,  the  central  town,  where  the 
Indians  had  also  come  back  to  look  for  corn.  These 
were  easily  persuaded  to  come  to  Gnadenhuetten, 
especially  as  the  white  men  professed  to  be  exceed- 
ingly religious,  and  Moravians,  admiring  their  spa- 
cious and  cleanly  hut  of  worship  as  it  once  had 
been,  and  discussing  fluently  on  the  goodness  of  the 
missionaries,  saying  frequently : 


A  MASSACBE.  145 

"The  good  Indians  are  indeed  good  Christians, 
and  well  beloved  at  the  fort,  where  our  white 
brothers  and  sisters  await  them." 

Some  of  them  on  leaving  Salem  set  fire  to  the 
few  yet  standing  houses  and  the  portion  of  the 
church  still  remaining,  which,  on  signs  of  disap- 
proval from  the  Indians,  they  explained  that  no 
harm  or  sacrilege  was  intended,  only  that  they 
must  destroy  any  lurking-place  liable  to  be  made 
use  of  by  the  enemy  of  the  good  Indians. 

On  their  arrival  at  the  bank  of  the  river  oppo- 
site Gnadenhuetten  they  came  across  the  body  of 
Shabosh. 

"  AVhat  is  this?"  asked  a  stern-eyed  Indian.  " Do 
my  white  brothers  murder  in  Christ's  name?" 

But  it  w^as  too  late:  they  had  given  up  their 
arms,  they  w^ere  in  the  power  of  men  who  now 
began  to  be  less  religiously  inclined,  and,  mention- 
ing God  less,  proclaimed  a  knowledge  of  a  low^r 
power  which  proved  a  long  familiarity  with  it. 

The  Indians  were  taken  over  to  Gnadenhuetten, 
where  the  white  men  threw  off  all  pretensions  to 
friendliness. 

The  captive  men  w^ere  divided  from  the  women 

and   children,   and   shut  up   in   two   houses   some 

distance  apart.     These    houses    the  whites    called 

slaughter-houses. 
13 


146  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

The  prisoners  being  thus, securely  taken,  a  council 
of  war  was  immediately  called  to  decide  on  their 
fate. 

The  officers  of  the  militia  were  unwilling  to  take 
on  their  own  shoulders  the  w^hole  responsibility  of 
the  decision,  and  agreed  to  refer  the  question^  to  the 
men  in  a  body. 

The  men  were  accordingly  drawn  up  in  line, 
and  were  full  of  merriment  over  the  success  of  the 
escapade. 

The  commander  of  the  party.  Colonel  William- 
son, who  was  supposed  to  be  anxious  to  retrieve  his 
lost  reputation,  put  in  full  parliamentary  form  the 
question : 

"Shall  the  Moravian  Indians  be  taken  prisoners 
to  Pittsburg,  or  be  put  to  death  here?" 

There  was  a  silence  at  first. 

"  All  who  are  in  favor  of  saving  these  lives  will 
now  step  out  of  the  line  and  form  a  second  rank," 
commanded  Colonel  Williamson.  On  this,  sixteen, 
some  assert  eighteen,  stepped  out  of  the  rank  and 
file. 

"  Down  with  them !"  cried  those  in  the  rear,  and 
these  "formed  a  line  of  majority  beyond  the  eigh- 
teen— for* death  without  mercy.  The  fate  of  the 
Moravians  was  thus  decided,  and  they  were  told  to 
prepare  for  death. 


A  MASSACRE.  147 

"  We  expected  it,"  said  they  calmly. 

For  the  prisoners,  from  the  time  they  were  placed 
in  the  guard-house,  foresaw  death,  and  began  to  sing 
some  simple  hymns  they  had  learned,  praying  and 
exhorting  each  other  to  place  a  strong  reliance  in 
the  saving  mercy  of  the  Christ  they  had  been  told  of. 

On  being  accused  of  having  aided  the  hostile 
Indians  they  declared  their  innocence;  they  were 
then  told  that  they  had  property  of  the  whites  in 
their  possession. 

They  said  they  could  render  a  satisfactory  ac- 
count of  every  single  article  they  called  their  own — 
where,  or  from  what  trader  they  had  purchased  it. 

But  the  number  of  horses,  the  Indian's  sole 
delight,  and  other  creatures  which  they  had  once 
possessed,  were  brought  to  bear  against  them  by 
their  accusers,  who  concluded  that  "when  they 
killed  the  Indians  the  country  would  be  theirs; 
and  the  sooner  this  was  done  the  better." 

Accordingly  they  told  the  poor  half-starved 
creatures  they  must  die. 

Finding  that  all  entreaties  to  save  their  lives  were 
to  no  purpose  whatever,  and  that  some,  more  blood- 
thirsty than  their  companions,  were  anxious  to 
begin  the  slaughter,  they  united  in  begging  a  short 
delay  that  they  might  prepare  themselves  for  death, 
which  request,  at  length,  was  granted.     They  asked 


148  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

pardon  for  whatever  offense  they  had  given  or  grief 
they  had  occasioned  to  each  other;  they  knelt 
down,  offering  fervent  prayers  to  God  their  Saviour, 
and,  kissing  one  another,  under  a  flood  of  tears,  fully 
resigned  to  his  will,  they  sang  praises  unto  Him, 
in  the  joyful  hope  that  they  would  soon  be  relieved 
from  all  pains  and  join  their  Redeemer  in  everlast- 
ing bliss. 

They  were  not  quick  enough  for  their  captors, 
who,  impatient,  during  the  time  granted  for  the 
last  devotions  consulted  as  to  the  mode  of  death 
for  the  praying  band  of  people.  8ome  suggested 
the  setting  on  fire  of  the  two  guard-houses  they 
were  at  present  confined  in,  thus  burning  them 
alive  and  saving  the  waste  of  time  for  burial. 

But  others  said  no,  for  they  wanted  to  take  home 
the  many  scalps  as  a  proper  confirmation  of  their 
triumph.  Some,  again,  opposed  both  these  plans, 
which  had  many  adherents,  and  declared  that  they 
would  never  be  guilty  of  murdering  a  people  whose 
innocence  was  so  satisfactorily  proven,  and  proposed 
setting  them  at  liberty,  or,  if  that  was  not  to  be 
thought  of,  at  least  to  hold  them  as  prisoners,  and 
deliver  them  up  to  the  proper  authorities. 

But,  as  is  usually  the  case  with  the  m.ost  human 
of  men  in  their  treatment  of  those  in  their  power, 
they  who  entertained  the  last  proposition  were  de- 


A  MASSACRE.  149 

clared  weak  by  the  majority,  who  advocated  death 
in  one  form  or  other,  and  despised  the  idea  of  hold- 
ing these  Indians  as  they  would  other  foes,  rejecting 
any  proposal  which  should  suggest  a  line  of  treat- 
ment opposed  to  the  alleged  deserts  of  a  hated 
people.  Thereupon  those  who  desired  no  personal 
violence  called  upon  the  God  of  the  red  and  the 
white  man  alike  to  witness  that  they  were  innocent 
of  the  blood  of  these  harmless  Christian  Indians, 
and  withdrew  to  some  distance  from  the  scene  of 
slaughter,  like  so  many  Pilates,  who  had  the  will  to 
propose  a  humane  action,  but  not  the  strength  of 
will  that  dared  put  the  action  into  execution  in  the 
face  of  popular  protest. 

The  murderers,  impatient  to  make  a  beginning, 
came  again  to  them  while  they  were  singing  and 
praying,  and,  inquiring  if  they  were  now  ready  to 
die,  they  answered  in  the  affirmative,  adding  that 
they  had  commended  their  immortal  souls  to  God, 
who  had  given  them  the  assurance  in  their  hearts 
that  He  would  receive  their  souls. 

One  of  the  party,  taking  up  a  cooper's  mallet, 
saying :  "  How  exactly  this  will  do  for  the  business," 
began  with  Abraham,  and  continued  knocking 
down  one  after  another  until  he  had  counted  four- 
teen that  he  had  killed  with  his  own  hands. 

He  now  handed  the  instrument  to  one  of  his 


150  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

fellow-murderers,  saying:  "My  arm  fails  me.  Go 
on  in  the  same  way.  I  think  I  have  done  pretty 
well  I" 

In  the  other  house,  where  mostly  women  and 
children  were  confined,  Judith,  a  remarkably  pious, 
aged  widow,  was  the  first  victim.  Christina,  who 
had  formerly  lived  with  the  sisters  in  Bethlehem, 
and  spoke  English  and  German  well,  fell  on  her 
knees  and  begged  for  life  in  vain. 

But  two  of  the  Indians,  both  lads,  escaped,  each 
about  fifteen  years  of  age.  One,  hiding  himself  in 
the  cellar  of  the  house  where  the  women  and  chil- 
dren were  murdered,  beheld  the  blood  run  in 
streams  into  the  cellar,  and,  waiting  until  night, 
escaped  through  the  window.  The  other,  receiving 
but  one  blow,  and  not  being  scalped,  recovered  his 
senses;  but,  seeing  the  murderers  return  and  kill  a 
man  named  Abel  (what  fitting  personal  nomencla- 
ture!), who  was  endeavoring  to  raise  himself  up,  he 
lay  still  until  evening,  when,  the  doors  being  open, 
he  escaped  into  the  woods. 

The  many  particulars  noted  down  with  scrupu- 
lous fidelity  are  too  horrible  to  reproduce  at  this 
late  date,  even  when  all  the  actors  in  the  affair  have 
been  called  to  answer  at  a  higher  tribunal  than 
man's  opinion.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  in  those  two 
•houses,  where  songs  and^  prayers  had  sounded  so 


A  MASSACRE,  151 

earnestly  in  the  praise  of  Christ,  who  died  for  all 
mankind  and  suffered  for  red  man  and  white  man 
alike,  so  that  his  people  but  take  up  the  cross  and 
follow  Him  in  meekness  and  well-doing,  all  was 
silent  when  night  came  down,  and  the  tired  execu- 
tioners slept  from  their  labors  or  counted  their  scalps 
and  made  sure  of  the  welcome  that  awaited  them 
in  the  fort,  while  ninety-six  dead  bodies — forty-one 
men,  twenty-one  women,  and  thirty-four  children — 
attested  the  weariness  that  seized  their  hands  and 
arms. 

"  Thus,  0  Brainerd  and  Zeisberger,  faithful  mis- 
sionaries, who  devoted  your  whole  lives  to  incessant 
toil  and  suffering  in  your  endeavor  to  make  the 
wilderness  of  paganism  '  rejoice  and  blossom  as  the 
rose,'  in  faith  and  piety  to  God — thus  perished  your 
faithful  followers,  by  the  murderous  hands  of  more 
than  savage  white  men !  Faithful  pastors !  Your 
spirits  are  again  associated  with  those  of  your  flock 
— *  where  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the 
weary  are  at  rest.' " 

The  Indians  waiting  in  the  upper  town,  Shoen- 
brunn,  ten  miles  farther  up  the  river,  expecting  the 
aid  promised  their  brethren  in  the  other  two  towns, 
were  apprised  of  the  danger,  and  escaped  just  in 
time  to  keep  their  scalps  intact. 

For  a  large  division  of  the  militiaman  arrived  at 


X 


152  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Shoenbrunn  on  the  very  day  the  Indians  had  left, 
and  were  wild  wdth  rage  at  having  been  betrayed,  as 
they  termed  it. 

They  collected  together  Tvhat  plunder  there  was 
for  them  and  with  it  returned  to  their  companions. 

After  the  work  of  wholesale  slaughter  was  con- 
summated, and  no  other  Moravian  Indians  pre- 
senting themselves,  the  buildings  in  the  town  of 
Gnadenhuetten,  including  the  two  slaughter-houses, 
w^ere  fired,  as  those  had  been  in  Salem. 

Thus  the  ninety-six  dead  bodies  were  consumed, 
and  what  the  fire  failed  to  reduce  to  ashes  the 
wolves  howling  in  the  wilderness  beyond  promised 
to  look  after. 

The  party  of  whites  then  moved  forward,  and 
proceeded  to  Pittsburg,  where,  on  the  opposite  banks 
of  the  Ohio,  they  attacked  the  peaceable  Delaware 
chiefs  and  a  number  of  friendly  families,  all  under 
the  protection  of  the  government,  killed  a  number, 
among  them  a  promising  young  chief,  and  then 
w^ent  off. 

Lewis  Wetzel  heard  of  this  affair,  and  shuddered 
as  he,  too,  tracked  the  Indians  who  had  wronged 
him. 

He  declared  that  he  would  never  have  attacked 
innocent  people,  and  he  was  known  never  to  have 
been   cruel  to  women  and  children;  but  possibly 


A  MASSACRE.  153 

had  he  been  detailed  with  the  marauding  party 
the  sight  of  a  red-skin  would  have  blinded  him  and 
deafened  him  to  the  calls  of  mercy,  and  only  his 
wrongs  would  have  stood  before  him,  calling  out  for 
him  to  avenge  them,  and  he  might  have  deemed  the 
claim  of  religion  on  the  part  of  the  Indians  but 
another  trick  to  catch  the  principles  of  the  white 
men,  as  he  could  remember  how,  long  ago,  a  bear 
lurked  about  his  old  home,  and  how  wolves'  cries 
sounded  about  the  door,  when  human  beings  imi- 
tated beasts  to  carry  out  the  plots  of  their  own 
nefarious  treacheries. 

He  knew  that  in  this  party  of  men  who  brought 
into  the  vicinity  of  Fort  Pitt  nearly  a  hundred  gory 
scalps  there  might  be  some  bent  on  revenging  a 
long  line  of  affronts  offered,  like  his  own,  by  the 
Indians;  but  he  also  knew  that  men  of  the  Simon 
Girty  stamp  were  foremost  in  it,  and  that  torture 
and  bloodshed  were  the  sole  incentives,  as  they 
wantonly  loved  the  contortions  of  a  snake  which  was 
impaled  to  the  ground  and  gradually  died  in  agony. 

He  bad  little  time  to  think  of  a  matter  which 
appealed  to  all  thinking  settlers  at  the  time,  but  was 
quickly  dismissed  because  of  more  personal  troubles ; 
for  he  was  preparing  for  his  own  first  campaign, 
which  promised  to  inaugurate  the  infliction  of  his 
penalties  on  the  makers  of  his  broken  home. 


154  LEWIS  WETZEL, 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Crawford's  campaign. 

A  FTER  this  excusable  digression,  we  come  to  the 
period  of  Crawford's  campaign,  in  which  Lewis 
Wetzel  and  probably  one  or  more  of  his  brothers 
were  engaged. 

It  was  well  known  at  the  time  that  this  stern 
campaign  was  intended  to  represent  almost  a  second 
Moravian  extermination,  for  a  few  false  Indians 
claiming  to  belong  to  the  Christian  settlements  had 
committed  depredations  which  involved  the  whole 
party  in  the  general  accusation. 

The  settlers  had  stood  too  much  and  too  often 
seen  their  rights  set  aside  by  both  villainous  whites 
and  Indians  to  bear  with  aught  more  without  most 
strenuous  efforts  to  punish  the  malefactors. 

Wetzel's  peculiarly  lonely  condition,  for  he  made 
few  friends  while  among  the  peaceably  inclined 
settlements,  had  attracted  the  attention  of  many 
around  him.  His  isolation  from  the  few  simple 
gayeties,  his  keeping  apart  even  from  his  relatives, 
singled  him  out  as  a  peculiar  character.    The  story 


CRAWFOBB'S  CAMPAIGN.  155 

» 
of  his  father's  death  and  the  stern  determination  of 

the  young  man  may  have  caused  the  gentle  smiled 
which  greeted  him,  as  women  ever  pity  loneliness 
and   pain ;  which  kindliness,  however,  seldom  re- 
ceived a  reward  from  him;  for  he  noticed  it  not — he 
did  not  understand  it. 

Among  the  maidens  at  Wheeling  was  one  black- 
eyed,  little  figure  which  came  to  be  called  "  Wetzel's 
shadow."  She  was  the  daughter  of  the  neighbor 
Rosencranz,  who  had  been  so  well  known  in  Penn- 
sylvania before  the  Wetzels  had  come  West.  She 
had  been  born  and  reared  here,  and,  her  father  and 
mother  dying,  the  fact  of  the  family  of  Lewis 
having  known  her  parents  in  their  days  of  greater 
domesticity  may  have  attracted  her  to  them.  But 
she  was  not  attracted  to  the  other  members  of  the 
family  as  she  was  to  the  young  scout.  It  was  she 
who  mended  the  torn  garments  of  the  young  boy, 
as  she  was  so  much  with  his  mother;  it  was  she 
who  listened  to  the  stories  of  his  youthful  prowess, 
and  whose  eyes  gleamed  when  she  heard  the  story 
of  his  oath. 

When  he  went  away  through  the  forest  on  the 
scent,  restless  and  ever  provoked  to  activity,  she  it 
was  upon  whom  his  eyes  first  lighted  on  his  return 
to  Wheeling,  she  it  was  who  offered  to  relieve  him 
of  his  gun,  and  whose  blushes  made  him  often 


156  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

blush  himself,  not  understanding  nor  liking  her 
effusion. 

She  was  always  in  his  footsteps,  shy  but  resolute. 
He  often  found  her  in  the  natural  bowers  of  vines 
prone  upon  the  ground  crying  her  pretty  eyes  out, 
and  wanting  comfort ;  and  yet  he  could  not  ask  her 
what  ailed  her,  nor  disturb  her  at  such  moments. 

He  would  creep  away  when  he  found  her  thus, 
going  softly  over  the  twigs  and  grass  so  as  not  to 
make  a  noise  and  let  her  know  he  was  in  her 
vicinity.  He  did  not  know  why  he  avoided  her, 
only  he  saw  soft  pity  in  her  eyes  for  him,  and  he 
frowned  at  pity  expressed  on  his  behalf.  "When 
Crawford's  campaign  was  broached  and  he  signi- 
fied his  intention  of  joining  it,  the  maiden  Kosen- 
cranz  was  wild.  She  knew  of  the  horrors  of  the 
late  Williamson  campaign,  and  to  think  that  Lewis 
Wetzel  would  voluntarily  murder  innocent  people 
was  almost  as  bad  as  to  think  of  him  murdered 
himself.  After  days  of  conflict  with  herself,  and 
when  she  could  not  go  to  the  other  women,  who, 
older  than  herself,  could  only  give  her  practical 
advice  and  tell  her  that  Lewis  Wetzel  knew  his  own 
business  best  and  that  his  affairs  belonged  to  no 
woman,  she  resolved  to  go  in  person  to  him  and 
remonstrate  with  him. 

It  may  have  been  that  his  preparations  for  the 


CRAWFORD S  CAMPAIGN,  157 

campaign  had  kept  him  husil}^  employed  with  the 
other  men,  and  he  no  longer  frequented  the  haunts 
where  the  women  oftenest  went,  and  that  she  missed 
him  sorely. 

However  that  may  be,  she  sought  and  found  him. 

At  first  she  could  not  speak  for  crying,  and  only 
stood  before  him  broken  with  her  tears. 

"  What  ails  you,  Berta  Rosencranz?"  he  asked.. 

Then  she  found  her  tongue,  and  burst  out  with : 

"Oh,  this  dreadful  campaign  —  this  dreadful 
colonel !" 

.  "  Colonel  Craw^ford  is  a  brave  man,"  smiled  Lewis. 
"He  was  born  in  the  same  year  with  General 
Washington,  in  the  same  Virginia  too." 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  spitefully  cried  the 
little  maiden ;  "  and  I  wish  he  had  been  born  in  the 
same  year  with  Adam,  so  I  do." 

"  Why,  he  would'nt  be  here  now,"  said  foolish 
Lewis,  lost  in  astonishment. 

"  I  don't  care,"  she  said,  growing  angrier  for  some 
reason  or  other.  "  The  idea  of  such  a  man  going 
and  killing!     I  wish  I  had  him  here — the  traitor!" 

"  He  is  not  a  traitor,  Berta  Rosencranz,  and  his 
record  is  good.  Did  he  not,  in  '58,  go  with  Forbes's 
expedition,  which  captured  Fort  Duquesne?  Did 
not  General  Washington  often  visit  him  in  Fayette? 
Was  he  not  a  colonel  of  the  Continentals?  Whom 
do  you  call  a  traitor?"  .  14 


158  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"Well,  I  don't  care,  Lewis  Wetzel;  and  3^ou 
needn't  stand  up  for  everybody  I  don't  like." 

"Why  don't -you  like  everybody,  then?" 

"  That's  my  own  business.  What  right  has  he  to 
take  everybody  away  from  everybody,  and " 

" He  does  not.     What  do  you  mean?" 

"  Why  does  he  lead  people  into  temptation,  then  ? 
I  never  was  so  angry  as  I  am  now,  and  it  is  all  his 
fault.  He  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  himself,  so  he 
ought." 

"  What  makes  you  angry  ?" 

"  How  should  I  know?  I  wouldn't  ask  silly  ques- 
tions if  I  was  you,  Lewis  Wetzel.  Don't  the  Bible 
tell  us  not  to  be  silly?  My  goodness!  The  Bible  I 
How  can  you  bear  to  mention  the  Bible !" 

"  I  did  not." 

"Well,  you  ought  to  have  done  so,  then.  A  man 
who  does  not  mention  the  Bible  ought  not  to  be 
trusted.     I  know  I  wouldn't  trust  such  a  man." 

"  I  did  not  ask  you  to  trust  me,  Berta  Resencranz." 

"  Oh,  Lewis  Wetzel,  how  can  you  bear  to  hurt  my 
feelings  so?"  cried  the  poor  little  thing,  in  tears 
again.  "  You  know  very  well  that  I  trust  you,  and 
you  know  I've  always  trusted  you,  and  dear  knows 
I  haven't  many  people  to  trust." 

"Why?" 

"  Because ;  that's  why." 


CBAWFOBJyS  CAMPAIGN,  159 

"Is  it?" 

"I'd  never  call  myself  an  Indian  scout  if  I 
couldn't  tell  that  ftiuch.  If  I  was  an  Indian  scout, 
I'd  know  even'thing,  and  I'm  sure  I  wouldn't  be 
all  the  time  giving  every  blessed  friend  I  had  the 
heart-ache  ?" 

"  Do  I  give  every  blessed  friend  I  have  the  heart- 
ache?" 

"Don't  you?" 

"Do  I?" 

"How  should  I  know?  I'm  not  every  blessed 
friend  a  man  has.  You  ought  to  feel  ashamed  to 
accuse  me  of  anything  of  the  sort — just  as  though  I 
was  an  army." 

Lewis  was  standing  first  on  one  foot,  then  on 
the  other. 

Berta  was  looking  at  him  from  the  corner  of  her 
eye,  while  her  face  was  buried  in  her  apron. 

He  did  not  make  an  attempt  to  break  the  silence 
which  had  now  fallen. 

At  last  she  said  plaintively : 

"  Say,  Lewis  Wetzel,  if  anybody  trusts  us,  we  must 
do  all  we  can  to  deserve  that  trust,  mustn't  we,  eh?" 

"  I  suppose  so,"  he  answered.  Clearly  he  was  tired 
of  this  nonsense. 

"And  if  we  don't  deserve  a  trust  we — we  don't, 
eh?" 


160  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  I  suppose  so." 

"  Then  if  I  trust  you  you  will  be  very  glad  to  do 
me  a  favor,  eh?  Upon  your  word  of  honor  you  will 
be  glad  to  do  me  a  favor  ?'' 

"  Oh,  yes." 

"  Then  don't  go  with  this  campaign,  Lewis.  Just 
you  stay  here  and  be  happy :  you  don't  know  how 
easy  it  is  to  be  happy  if  you  only  try  right  hard. 
And  who  knows  but  there  may  be  people  around 
who  would  die  to  make  you  hap^Dy." 

"  It  wouldn't  make  me  happy  for  people  to  die — 
unless  they  are  Injuns." 

"Then  you  know,  Lewis,  I  can  make  real  nice 
molasses  cakes — just  as  mother  said  they  make  them 
in  Pennsylvania ;  and  you  know  you  liked  them 
there." 

"  Did  I?     I  must  have  forgotten." 

"  Of  course ;  you  were  very  young  then,  Lewis." 

"Yes?" 

"You  know  you  were;  3'ou  ought  to  be  ashamed 
of  yourself  not  to  know  that.  So,  as  you  will  try  to 
deserve  the  trust  people  repose  in  3'ou,  and  you  love 
the  molasses  cakes  I  know  how  to  make,  and  just  as 
you  liked  them  in  Pennsylvania  when  quite  young, 
you  will  stay  here  and  eat  and  be  merry,  and  let  old 
Crawford  and  his  old  campaign  go  without  you. 
Oh,  how  nice  of  you,  Lewis  1" 


CEAWFORiyS  CAMAPION.  161 

He  broke  from  her  then,  seeing  a  certain  meaning 
in  her  fresh  cheerfulness. 

"  I  never  said  that  I  would  stay,"  he  said  frown- 
ing. "  I  will  not  stay.  You  have  no  right  to  take 
up  my  words  so.  No ;  my  duty  calls  me  away,  and 
I  go.  You,  all  the  women,  need  the  men  for  protec- 
tion ;  and  I  go  to  keep  your  enemies  from  you.  No, 
Berta  Rosencranz,  you  cannot  detain  me  any  more 
than  any  other  woman,  any  more  than  all  the 
women  in  the  world  could  detain  me.     Good-bye !" 

And,  turning  on  his  heel,  he  left  her  sobbing, 
with  her  pretty  head  up  against  a  tree. 

He  w^ent  immediately  to  Colonel  Crawford  and 
his  men.  He  knew  that  the  work  he  volunteered  to 
do  meant  murder  and  plunder,  and  the  destruction 
of  the  Wyandot  towns  on  the  Sandusky.  But  his 
vow  had  never  been  forgotten,  and  his  chance  was 
come. 

It  was  the  universal  resolution  of  every  man 
concerned  in  this  expedition  to  spare  the  life  of  no 
Indian  who  might  fall  in  his  way,  whether  friend 
or  foe,  demoniacal  as  this  may  appear. 

But  it  will  be  seen  in  the  sequel  that  the  result  of 
the  whole  campaign  was  entirely  different  from  that 
of  the  Moravian  campaign  in  the  preceding  March. 
And  while  at  this  long  distance  from  the  troublous, 
exciting  times  of  Lewis  Wetzel's  day  we  see  only  the 


162  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

horrible  actions  of  the  white  men  who  acted  the 
savage,  j^et  the  long  continuance  of  the  Indian  war 
had  debased  the  larger  number  of  the  white  popu- 
lation to  the  almost  savage  state  of  nature.  They 
had  lost  so  many  relatives  by  the  Indians,  they  had 
been  witnesses  of  such  horrid  murders  and  other 
depredations  by  the  red  foes,  that  they  were  in  con- 
stant dread  for  their  women  and  little  ones ;  their 
flocks  and  crops  were  not  assured  to  them,  but  were 
liable  to  be  stolen  and  ruined  in  one  night,  and 
they  insensibly  became  subject  to  that  indiscrimi- 
nate thirst  for  revenge  which  is  such  a  prominent 
feature  in  the  savage  character. 

The  men  were  all  mounted  on  the  best  horses 
they  could  get,  the  settlers  furnishing  steeds  to  those 
who  owned  none. 

Lewis  Wetzel  had  saved  one  colt  of  his  father's, 
and  this  trained  beast  bore  him. 

On  the  25th  of  May,  1782,  not  a  cloud  in  the  sky, 
the  day  tender  and  full  of  the  scent  of  green-grow- 
ing plants,  and  peace  and  plenty  making  a  pano- 
ramic picture  of  wondrous  beauty,  four  hundred 
and  eighty  men  mustered  in  the  old  Mingo  towns 
on  the  western  side  of  the  Ohio  river. 

They  were  all  from  the  immediate  neighborhood, 
with  the  exception  of  one  company  from  Ten  Mile, 
in  Washington  County,  Pennsylvania. 


CRAWFORD S  CAMPAIGN.  163 

Colonel  Crawford  had  accepted  the  command  with 
apparent  reluctance;  but,  as  an  election  had  been 
held  and  votes  cast  for  Colonel  Williamson  or 
himself  to  assume  the  office,  and  he  being  duly 
elected,  he  dared  scarcely  to  deny  the  popular  voice, 
and  so  he  acceded  to  the  will  of  the  people. 

The  line  of  march  was  taken  up,  and  the  horses 
tramped  along  through  "  Williamson's  Trail,"  as  it 
was  then  called,  until  they  arrived  at  the  upper 
Moravian  town,  in  the  fields  of  which  there  was 
still  corn  on  the  stalks,  upon  w^hich  the  host  of 
horses  was  plentifully  fed  during  the  night  of  en- 
campment there. 

Shortly  after  the  army  had  halted,  three  men, 
who  had  walked  some  distance  from  the  camp,  dis- 
covered a  couple  of  Indians,  and  fired  at  one  of 
them,  without  wounding  him,  however. 

As  soon  as  the  news  of  the  discovery  of  Indians 
reached  the  encampment,  more  than  half  of  the 
men  rushed  out,  without  any  command,  and  in  the 
most  tumultuous  manner  crashed  through  the  stub- 
ble to  see  what  the  report  meant. 

From  this  open  breach  of  discipline  Colonel 
Crawford  anticipated  the  defeat  which  followed. 
"The}''  obey  nothing  but  their  own  base  instincts," 
he  said,  "  and  these  instincts,  like  all  impulses,  do 
little  for  safety  without  a  cool  leader." 


164  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

The  whole  fact  in  a  nutshell  is  that  the  Indians 
were  beforehand.  They  had  seen  the  gathering  on 
the  Mingo  bottom,  and  knew  their  number  and 
destination.  They  saw  from  writing  on  the  trees, 
that  no  quarter  w^as  to  be  given  to  any  Indian, 
whether  man,  woman,  or  child. 

Into  June,  however,  the  militia  roved  along,  in- 
stead of  meeting  with  Indians  and  plunder,  coming 
across  nothing  but  desolation.  Where  Indian  vil- 
lages had  been,  the  place  was  covered  with  high 
grass,  and  there  were  only  the  ruins  of  a  few  huts. 
The  Indians  had  tramped  off  to  Scioto  some  time 
before. 

At  last  the  officers,  gathered  in  council,  deter- 
mined to  march  one  day  longer  in  the  direction  of 
Upper  Sandusky,  and  then,  if  nothing  noteworthy 
presented  itself,  they  would  begin  a  retreat  forth- 
with. 

Through  the  plains  of  Sandusky  they  were  to  be 
seen  early  the  next  morning,  going  along  out  of 
humor,  and  expecting  to  come  across  nothing  but 
the  usual  dull  sameness.  But  about  2  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  i\ie  advance  guard  was  fired  upon  by 
Indians,  who,  in  large  numbers,  were  concealed  in 
the  high  grass,  and  driven  back.  The  Indians,  after 
this  attack,  made  for  a  dense  piece  of  woods  almost 
entirely  surrounded  by  plains,  and  here  they  would 


CRAWFORD'S  CAMPAIGN.  165 

have  had  the  vantage-ground.  But  the  white  men, 
by  a  rapid  movement,  headed  them  off. 

Then  the  battle  began  by  a  heavy  fire  on  both 
sides.  A  few  Indians  at  the  outset  of  the  fight  had 
gained  a  portion  of  the  woods,  but  these  w^ere  dis- 
lodged with  slaughter.  They  then  attempted  to 
reach  a  small  skirt  of  wood  on  the  right  flank  of 
the  army,  but  were  prevented  from  doing  so  by 
Major  Leet,  who  commanded  the  right  wing  of  the 
army  at  that  time. 

The  firing  was  incessant  and  heavy  all  day,  and 
only  when  darkness  fell  was  it  discontinued. 

Both  the  red  and  white  armies  slept  on  their  arms 
that  night,  and  w^aited  impatiently  for  the  morning. 
Large  fires  were  kindled  all  along  the  line  of  battle 
by  both  parties,  and  chief  among  the  workers  and 
tenders  of  the  fires  of  the  whites  was  a  dark,  silent 
young  fellow,  who  did  his  work  quietly  and  effectu- 
ally, only  now  and  then  pausing  to  shade  his  eyes 
with  his  hand  and  scan  the  opposite  hills  where  the 
red  man  waited,  and  whose  encampment  was  plainly 
visible  in  the  glare  of  the  fires. 

"  It  is  coming !  It  is  coming !"  he  would  mutter 
to  himself,  and  then  resume  his  work  of  piling  on 
the  logs. 

Fiercer  and  hotter  roared  the  fires  all  night,  and 
the  country  was  one  big  bonfire,  by  the  flame  of 


166  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

which  the  contending  parties  watched  each  other 
and  prepared  for  the  promised  encounter  of  the 
following  day. 

There  was  a  looking-after  of  muskets  and  a  storing 
of  powder  and  balls  on  the  part  of  the  white  men. 
But  not  alone  was  these  so-called  civilized  instru- 
ments of  death  attended  to,  as  though  any  weapons 
designed  to  destroy  life  can  be  properly  deemed 
civilized !  But  knives  were  sharpened,  even  toma- 
hawks ground  down,  for  hurling  the  tomahawk 
found  many  adepts  in  this  little  party,  and  when 
necessity  compelled  a  cessation  of  powder-firing  the 
Indians'  own  weapon  of  defense  and  attack  was  as 
efficacious  in  the  hands  of  the  foes  of  the  Indians 
as  in  the  hands  of  the  dusky  denizens  of  the  forest 
themselves. 

In  the  early  morning  the  white  party  prepared 
for  the  defensive. 

But  the  Indians  made  no  attack  until  late  in  the 
evening,  while  all  day  long  large  parties  of  them 
were  seen  traversing Hhe  plains,  like  ants  establish- 
ing a  city,  and  some  of  them  carrying  away  the 
dead  and  wounded  of  the  day  before.  Their  num- 
bers now  seemed  uncountable  and  still  increasing, 
and  the  officers  of  the  white  army  anxiously  called 
a  council. 

"  We  must  retreat,"  said  they  with  one  voice. 


CBAWFORiyS  CAMPAIGN.  167 

"  Why  ?"  asked  a  calm  voice. 

"  Who  spoke  ?"  demanded  Colonel  Crawford. 

There  was  no  response. 

"  We  must  retreat,"  again  began  an  oflScer,  and 
again  came  the  interruption : 

''Why?" 

The  men  who  had  pressed  in  to  the  confines  set 
apart  for  the  council  of  war  now  drew  back,  all  save 
one  figure,  a  young  dark-skinned  man  who  had  fed 
the  fires  the  night  before.    He  bad  been  the  speaker. 

"How  dared  you  interrupt?"  was  asked  him,  not 
that  any  court-martial  was  possible  in  such  an  army 
for  breach  of  discipline. 

"I  meant  no  disrespect,"  was  the  reply;  "only  it 
hardly  becomes  men  who  go  out  to  fight  with  an 
enemy  to  fall  back  because  of  a  trifling  superiority 
of  numbers." 

"A  trifling  superiority  of  numbers !"  repeated  the 
officer.     "  What  do  you  say  to  that?" 

He  raised  his  hand,  and  all  eyes  were  directed 
towards  the  point  he  designated.  They  could  see 
from  afar  off  the  Indians  pouring  in  from  all  direc- 
tions until  the  opposite  field  of  hills  was  one  dense 
mass  of  humanity,  which  w^as  gradually  put  into 
squares  with  considerable  dexterity  and  military 
skill. 

There  was  no  response  from  the  dissatisfied  men, 


168  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

and  in  silence  they  stood  for  some  minutes  regard- 
ing the  manoeuvres  of  the  savages. 

The  council  of  officers  was  then  convened  again, 
the  men  excluded,  and  a  guard  stationed  to  prevent 
any  intrusion  from  outsiders. 

Colonel  Williamson  then  proposed  taking  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  men  and  marching  to  the  Upper 
Sandusky.  The  commander-in-chief  interposed  a 
refusal. 

"  I  have  very  little  doubt,"  he  said,  "  but  that  you 
would  reach  the  town,  but  you  would  find  nothing 
there  but  empty  wigwams,  and,  having  taken  off  so 
many  of  our  best  men,  you  would  leave  the  rest  to 
be  destroyed  by  the  host  of  Indians  with  which  we 
are  now  surrounded,  and  on  your  return  you  would 
meet  the  fate  which  had  been  ours  during  your 
absence.  They  care  nothing  for  defending  their 
towns,  for  the  simple  reason  that  the  towns  are 
worth  nothing.  Their  squaws,  children,  and  prop- 
erty have  been  removed  long  since.  Our  lives  and 
baggage  are  what  they  want,  and  if  they  can  get  us 
divided  they  will  soon  have  them.  We  must  stay 
closely  together,  and  do  the  best  that  existing  cir- 
cumstances will  permit." 

During  the  conflict  of  the  day  before  the  expe- 
ditionary force  lost  three  men  and  had  several 
wounded.    Preparations  for  retreat  were  now  made 


CBAWFOEUS  CAMPAIGN.  169 

by  burying  the  dead  and  burning  fires  over  their 
graves  to  prevent  discovery.  Once,  in  the  midst  of 
one  of  these  fires,  a  man  was  seen  surrounded  by 
flames,  shaking  liis  clenched  fist  towards  the  foe. 

"Who  is  that  man?"  questioned  Colonel  Craw- 
ford. 

"Can't  say,"  returned  the  man  addressed,  "but 
from  this  distance  it  looks  like  a  young  fellow 
named  Wetzel." 

The  retreat  was  to  begin  deep  in  the  night.  But 
the  Indians  seemed  to  scent  the  intention  of  the 
white  men,  and  about  sundown  attacked  the  army 
with  savage  force  and  fury  in  every  direction  ex- 
cepting that  towards  Sandusky.  There  was  confu- 
sion, and  momentarily  consternation  seized  the 
troops,  and  as  a  result  firing  on  their  part  was  very 
desultory. 

As  hurriedly  as  the  excitement  incident  to  the 
assault  would  permit  the  line  of  march  for  the  re- 
treat was  formed.  When  this  was  accomplished, 
the  guides  were  instructed  to  take  the  course  to 
Sandusky,  the  only  opening  between  the  masses  of 
Indians.  The  army  then  took  up  the  march  for 
about  a  mile,  wheeled  about,  and  by  a  circuitous 
route  gained  the  trail  by  which  they  had  come. 

They  retreated  the  whole  of  the  next  day,  pur- 
sued by  the  Indians,  wlio  kept  up  a  steady  fire  into 
15 


170  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

the  rear-guard,  which  often  had  to  be  replaced,  and 
a  wounded  man  or  two  brought  to  the  fore.  Then 
the  savage  firing  became  less  and  less,  and  towards 
evening  ceased  entirely,  the  pursuers  halting  and 
making  no  pretense  to  follow  any  farther. 

At  night  the  fires  of  the  white  men  were  built. 
For  hours  the  men  were  on  the  alert,  but  nothing 
occurred  to  occasion  any  alarm — not  a  red-skin  was 
within  a  radius  of  a  mile  of  them.  Towards  mid- 
night all  fear  of  pursuit  had  vanished,  and  even 
the  sentinels  lay  down  on  their  arms  to  sleep.  Even 
in  this  careless  position  they  were  not  attacked. 

Most  unfortunatel}^  when  the  retreat  had  been 
resolved  upon,  a  difference  of  opinion  prevailed  as 
to  the  best  mode  of  eftecting  it. 

The  greater  number  thought  it  best  to  keep  in  a 
body,  while  a  very  small  party  deemed  it  safest  to 
break  off  into  detachments  and  make  their  way 
home  in  different  directions. 

Many  attempted  to  do  this,  calculating  that  the 
Indians  in  a  body  would  follow  the  main  army.  In 
this  they  were  mistaken. 

For  the  Indians  paid  little  attention  to  the  main 
body  of  the  army,  and  pursued  the  small  parties 
and  wrought  such  effectual  vengeance  that  very  few 
of  them  escaped. 

The  only  successful  small  party  was  that  com- 


CBAWFOBJyS  CAMPAIGN.  171 

manded  by  Colonel  Williamson,  composed  of  some 
forty  men,  who,  late  in  the  night  of  the  retreat, 
broke  through  the  Indian  lines  under  a  brisk  fire 
and  with  some  loss,  and  overtook  and  rejoined  the 
main  army  the  second  day  of  the  retreat. 

For  several  days  the  Indians  were  spread  over  the 
whole  country  in  pursuit  of  the  straggling  parties. 
They  pursued  them  almost  to  the  banks  of  the  Ohio. 

Colonel  CraAvford  in  the  retreat  had  placed  him- 
self at  the  head,  and  hoped  that  the  darkness  would 
shield  his  command. 

Dr.  Knight,  the  companion  of  Crawford  in  his 
captivity,  thus  relates  what  followed  : 

"We  had  not  got  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the 
scene  of  action  when  I  heard  Colonel  Crawford 
calling  for  his  son  John,  his  son-in-law  Major 
Harrison,  and  Major  Eise  and  William  Crawford, 
his  nephews,  upon  which  I  came  up  and  told  him  I 
believed  they  were  before  us. 

"  He  asked :  '  Is  that  the  doctor  ?' 

"  I  told  him  it  was. 

"  He  then  replied  that  they  were  not  in  front,  and 
begged  of  me  not  to  leave  him;  and  I  promised 
him  I  would  not. 

"  We  then  waited,  and  continued  calling  for  these 
men  till  the  troops  had  passed  us. 

"The  colonel  told  me  his  horse  had  almost  given 


172  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

out,  that  he  could  not  keep  up  with  the  troops,  and 
wished  some  of  his  best  friends  to  remain  with  him ; 
he  then  exclaimed  against  the  militia  for  riding  off 
in  such  an  irregular  manner,  and  leaving  some  of 
the  .wounded  behind,  contrary  to  his  orders. 

"  Presently  there  came  two  men  riding  after  us, 
one  of  them  an  old  man,  the  other  a  lad.  We 
inquired  if  the}^  had  seen  any  of  the  above  persons, 
and  they  answered  they  had  not. 

"About  daybreak  Colonel  Crawford's  and  the 
young  man's  horses  gave  out,  and  they  left  them. 

"We  pursued  our  journey  eastward,  and  about 
two  o'clock  fell  in  with  Captain  Biggs,  who  had 
carried  Lieutenant  Ashley  from  the  field  of  action 
dangerously  wounded. 

"  We  then  went  on  about  the  space  of  an  hour, 
when  a  heavy  rain  came  up ;  we  concluded  it  was 
best  to  encamp,  as  we  were  encumbered  with  the 
wounded  officer. 

"We  then  barked  four  or  five  trees,  made  an 
encampment  and  a  fire,  and  remained  all  night. 

"  Next  morning  we  again  prosecuted  our  journey, 
and,  having  gone  about  three  miles,  found  a  deer 
which  had  been  recently  killed.  The  meat  was 
sliced  from  the  bones,  and  bundled  up  in  the  skin, 
with  a  tomahawk  lying  by  it. 

"  We  carried  all  with  us,  and,  in  advancing  about 
one  mile  farther,  discovered  the  smoke  of  a  fire. 


CBAWFo:^]ys  campaign.  173 

"We  then  gave  the  wounded  officer  into  the 
charge  of  the  young  man,  and  desired  him  to  stay 
behind,  whilst  the  colonel,  the  captain^  and  myself 
walked  up  as  cautiously  as  we  could  towards  the 
fire. 

"  When  we  came  to  it,  we  concluded,  from  several 
circumstances,  some  of  our  people  had  encamped 
there  the  preceding  night. 

"  We  then  went  about  roasting  the  venison,  and 
when  just  about  to  march  observed  one  of  our  men 
coming  upon  our  tracks.  He  seemed  at  first  very 
shy,  but,  having  called  to  him,  he  came  up  and  told 
us  he  was  the  person  who  had  killed  the  deer;  but 
upon  hearing  us  come  up  he  was  afraid  of  Indians, 
hid  in  a  thicket,  and  made  off. 

"  Upon  this,  we  gave  him  some  bread  and  roasted 
venison,  proceeded  together  upon  our  journey,  and 
about  two  o'clock  came  upon  the  paths  by  which 
we  had  gone  out. 

"  Captain  Biggs  and  myself  did  not  think  it  safe 
to  keep  the  road,  but  the  colonel  said  the  Indians 
would  not  follow  the  troops  farther  than  the  plains, 
which  we  were  then  considerably  past. 

"As  the  wounded  officer  rode  Captain  Biggs's 
horse,  I  gave  the  colonel  mine.  The  colonel  and 
myself  went  about  one  hundred  yards  in  front,  the 
captain  and  the  wounded  officer  in  the  centre,  and 
the  young  man  behind. 


174  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"After  we  had  traveled  about  one  mile  and  a  half, 
several  Indians  started  up  within  fifteen  or  twenty 
steps  of  the  colonel  and  me.  As  we  at  first  discov- 
ered only  three,  1  immediately  got  behind  a  large 
black  oak,  made  ready  my  piece  and  raised  it  up  to 
take  sight,  when  the  colonel  called  to  me  twice  not 
to  fire;  upon  that  one  of  the  Indians  ran  up  and 
took  the  colonel  by  the  hand.  The  colonel  then 
told  me  to  put  down  my  gun,  which  I  did. 

"At  that  instant  one  of  them  came  up  to  me 
whom  I  had  formerly  seen  very  often,  calling  me 
doctor,  and  took  me  by  the  hand.  They  were  Dela- 
ware Indians  of  the  Wingenim  tribe.  Captain  Biggs 
fired  among  them,  but  did  no  execution. 

'•  They  then  told  us  to  call  those  people  and  make 
them  come  there,  else  they  would  go  and  kill  them. 
The  colonel  called,  but  the  little  party  got  off  and 
escaped  for  the  time. 

"The  colonel  and  I  were  then  taken  to  the  Indian 
camp,  which  was  about  half  a  mile  from  the  place 
where  we  were  captured.  On  Sunday  evening  five 
Delawares,  who  had  posted  themselves  at  some  dis- 
tance farther  on  the  road,  brought  back  to  the  camp 
where  we  lay  the  scalps  of  Captain  Biggs  and  Lieu- 
tenant Ashley,  together  with  an  Indian  scalp  which 
Captain  Biggs  had  taken  in  the  field  of  action. 
They  also  brought  in  Biggs's  horse  and  mine,  and 
told  us  the  other  men  had  got  away  from  them. 


CRAWFOBD'S  CAMPAIGN.  175 

"Monday  morning,  the  10th  of  June,  we  were 
prepared  to  march  to  Sandusky,  about  thirty-three 
miles  distant. 

"  They  had  eleven  prisoners  of  us,  and  four  scalps. 
The  Indians  were  seventeen  in  number.  Colonel 
Crawford  was  very  desirous  to  see  a  certain  Simon 
Girty,  who  lived  among  the  Indians,  and  was  on 
this  account  permitted  to  go  to  town  the  same 
night,  with  two  warriors  to  guard  him,  having 
orders  at  the  same  time  to  pass  by  the  place  where 
the  colonel  had  turned  out  his  horse,  that  they 
might,  if  possible,  find  him.  The  rest  of  us  were 
taken  as  far  as  the  old  town,  which  was  within 
eight  miles  of  the  new. 

"Tuesday  morning,  the  11th,  Colonel  Crawford 
was  brought  out  to  us  on  purpose  to  be  marched  in 
with  the  other  prisoners.  I  asked  the  colonel  if  he 
had  seen  Mr.  Girty.  He  told  me  he  had,  and  that 
Girty  had  promised  to  do  everything  in  his  power 
for  him,  but  that  the  Indians  were  very  much 
enraged  against  the  prisoners,  particularly  Captain 
Pipe,  one  of  the  chiefs.  He  likewise  told  me  that 
Girty  had  informed  him  that  his  son-in-law,  Colonel 
Harrison,  and  his  nephew,  William  Crawford,  were 
made  prisoners  by  the  Shawanese,  but  had  been 
pardoned.  This  Captain  Pipe  had  come  from  the 
towns  about  an  hour  before  Colonel  Crawford,  and 


176  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

had  painted  all  the  prisoners'  faces  black.  As  he 
was  painting  me  he  told  me  I  should  go  to  the 
Shawanese  towns  and  see  my  friends.  When  the 
colonel  arrived,  he  painted  him  black  also,  told  him 
he  was  glad  to  see  him,  and  that  he  would  have 
him  shaved  when  he  came  to  see  his  friends  at  the 
Wyandot  town.  When  we  marched,  the  colonel 
and  I  were  kept  between  Pipe  and  Wyngenim,  the 
two  Delaware  chiefs.  The  other  nine  prisoners 
w^ere  sent  forward  with  a  party  of  Indians. 

"  As  we  went  along,  we  saw  four  of  the  prisoners 
lying  bj  the  path,  tomahawked  and  scalped ;  some 
of  them  were  at  the  distance  of  half  a  mile  from 
each  other.  When  we  arrived  within  half  a  mile 
of  the  place  where  the  colonel  was  executed,  we 
overtook  the  five  prisoners  that  remained  alive; 
the  Indians  had  caused  them  to  sit  down  on  the 
ground,  as  they  did;  also  the  colonel  and  myself, 
at  some  distance  from  them.  I  was  then  given  in 
charge  to  an  Indian  fellow,  to  be  taken  to  the 
Shawanese  towns.  In  the  place  where  we  were  now 
made  to  sit  down  were  a  number  of  squaws  and 
boys,  who  fell  upon  the  five  prisoners  and  toma- 
hawked them.  There  was  a  certain  John  McKinley 
among  the  prisoners,  formerly  an  officer-  in  the 
Thirteenth  Virginia  regiment,  whose  head  an  old 
squaw  cut  off",  and  the  Indians  kicked  it  about  upon 


CEAWFORUS  CAMPAIGN.  177 

the  ground.  The  young  Indian  fellows  came  often 
where  the  colonel  and  I  were,  and  dashed  the  scalps 
in  our  faces.  We  were  then  conducted  along 
towards  the  place  where  the  colonel  was  afterwards 
executed.  When  we  came  within  half  a  mile  of 
it,  Simon  Girty  met  us,  with  several  Indians,  on 
horseback.  He  spoke  to  the  colonel,  but  as  I  was 
about  one  hundred  and  fifty  yards  behind  I  could 
not  hear  what  passed  between  them.  Almost  every 
Indian  we  met  struck  us  either  with  sticks  or  their 
fists.  Girty  waited  till  I  was  brought  up  and  then 
asked.  Was  that  the  doctor?  I  answered  him.  Yes, 
and  went  towards  him  and  reached  out  my  hand ; 
but  he  bid  me  begone,  and  called  me  a  cursed 
rascal;  upon  which  the  fellow  wdio  had  me  in 
charge  pulled  me  along.  When  we  came  to  the 
fire,  the  colonel  was  stripped,  ordered  to  sit  down  by 
the  fire,  and  then  they  beat  him  with  sticks  and 
their  fists.  Presently  after,  I  was  treated  in  the 
same  manner.  They  then  tied  a  rope  to  the  foot  of 
a  post  about  fifteen  feet  high,  bound  the  colonel's 
hands  behind  his  back,  and  fastened  the  rope  to  a 
ligature  between  his  wrists.  The  rope  was  long 
enough  for  him  to  sit  down  or  to  walk  around  the 
post  once  or  twice,  anrd  return  the  same  way.  The 
colonel  then  called  to  Girty,  and  asked  if  they 
intended  to  burn  him  ?    Girty  answered,  Yes.    Upon 


178  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

this,  Captain  Pipe  made  a  speech  to  the  Indians, 
consisting  of  about  thirty  or  forty  men  and  sixty 
or  seventy  squaws  and  boys. 

"  When  the  speech  was  finished,  they  all  yelled  a 
hideous  and  hearty  assent  to  what  he  had  said. 
The  Indian  men  then  took  up  their  guns  and  shot 
powder  into  the  colonel's  body  from  his  feet  as  far 
as  his  neck.  I  think  not  less  than  seventy  loads 
were  discharged  upon  his  naked  body.  They  then 
crowded  about  him  and,  to  the  best  of  my  observa- 
tion, cut  off  his  ears.  When  the  throng  had  dis- 
persed a  little,  I  saw  the  blood  running  from  both 
sides  of  his  head.  The  fire  was  about  six  or  seven 
yards  from  the  post  to  which  the  colonel  was  tied. 
It  was  made  of  small  hickory  poles  burnt  quite 
through  in  the  middle,  each  end  of  the  poles  re- 
maining about  six  feet  in  length.  Three  or  four 
Indians  by  turns  would  take  up  individually  one 
of  these  burning  pieces  of  wood  and  apply  it  to  his 
naked  body,  already  burned  black  with  powder. 
These  tormentors  presented  themselves  on  every 
side  of  him,  so  that  whichever  way  he  ran  around 
the  pole  he  was  met  by  the  burning  fagots.  Some 
of  the  squaws  took  broad  boards  upon  which  they 
put  a  quantity  of  burning  coals  and  hot  embers 
and  threw  them  on  him,  so  that  in  a  short  time  he 
had  nothing  but  coals  of  fire  and  hot  ashes  to  walk 


CRAWFOBiyS  CAMPAIGN.  179 

■upon.  In  the  midst  of  these  extreme  tortures  he 
called  upon  Simon  Girty,  and  begged  of  him  to 
shoot  him.  Girty,  by  way  of  derision,  answered 
that  he  had  no  gun,  turning  about  to  an  Indian 
behind  him  and  laughing  heartily.  Girty  then 
came  up  to  me  and  told  me  to  prepare  for  death. 
He  said,  however,  that  I  was  not  to  die  at  that  place, 
but  would  be  burnt  at  the  Shawanese  towns.  Col- 
onel Crawford  at  this  period  of  his  suffering  be- 
sought the  Almighty  to  have  mercy  on  his  soul. 
He  spoke  very  low,  and  bore  his  torments  with  the 
most  manly  fortitude.  He  continued  in  all  the  ex- 
tremities of  pain  for  an  hour  and  three-quarters  or 
two  hours  longer,  as  near  as  I  can  judge,  when  at 
last,  being  almost  spent,  he  lay  down  on  his  face. 
They  then  scalped  him,  and  repeatedly  threw  the 
scalp  in  my  face,  telling  me  that  it  was  my  great 
captain's.  An  old  squaw  got  a  board  and  took  a 
parcel  of  coals  and  ashes  and  laid  them  on  his  back 
and  head  after  he  had  been  scalped.  He  then 
raised  himself  on  his  feet  and  began  to  walk  around 
the  post.  They  then  put  a  burning  stick  to  him  as 
usual,  but  he  seemed  insensible  to  pain." 

This  is  the  doctor's  narrative. 

It  may  be  added  that  Colonel  Crawford's  son-in- 
law  and  nephew  were  executed  about  the  same 
time.    John  escaped.    What  became  of  the  other 


180  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

members    of   his   family   camiot    be    satisfactorily 
ascertained. 

Dr.  Knight  was  doomed  to  be  burned  at  a 
town  fifty  miles  distant  from  Sandusky,  and  com- 
mitted to  the  care  of  an  Indian  convoy.  The  second 
morning  after  their  setting  out,  the  gnats  being 
very  troublesome,  Dr.  Knight  begged  the  Indian  to 
unloose  his  bonds  that  he  might  assist  "him  in 
making  the  fire  to  scatter  the  pests.  Inasmuch  as 
an  Indian  never  fails  to  avail  himself  of  help  in  the 
mere  comforts  of  life,  the  doctor  was  soon  freed  and 
hard  at  work  making  up  a  fire  with  the  Indian. 
While  the  savage  was  on  his  knees  blowing  the  fire, 
the  white  man  caught  up  a  pole  with  which  he 
struck  the  kneeling  man  upon  the  head  with  all 
his  strength,  hoping  to  knock  him  forward  into  the 
already  fierce  fire.  But  the  stick  broke,  and  the 
Indian,  though  sorely  wounded,  was  not  killed.  He 
immediately  sprang  up  and  seized  his  gun,  which 
the  doctor  grasped  from  him,  but  drew  back  the 
cock  so  violently  that  he  broke  the  spring,  rendering 
it  useless  as  a  firearm.  Then  the  Indian  ran  off, 
yelling  hideously,  and  the  doctor  made  his  way 
home,  which  took  him  twenty-one  daj^s  to  do,  sub- 
sisting wholly  on  roots,  and  arriving  at  the  station 
in  an  almost  dying  condition. 


A  PVESUIT  AND  AN  ESCAPE,  181 


CHAPTER  IX. 

A  PURSUIT   AND   AN   ESCAPE. 

npHUS  ended  this  most  disastrous  campaign.  It 
was  the  last  one  that  originated  in  this  section 
of  the  country  during  the  revolutionary  contest  of 
the  Americans  against  Great  Britain.  It  was  under- 
taken with  the  very  worst  of  views, — murder  and 
plunder.  It  was  conducted  without  proper  means 
to  encounter  an  enemy  such  as  resisted  the  settlers. 
There  was  no  subordination  and  discipline  among 
the  troops,  and  it  ended  in  total  discomfiture. 
Never  on  any  occasion  had  the  ferocious  savages 
such  ample  revenge  for  the  murder  of  their  pacific 
friends. 

Is  the  question  asked :  Why,  with  so  small  a  force 
and  such  inadequate  means,  did  the  whites  propose 
the  campaign  ?  The  only  answer  is  that  most  every 
one  believed  that  the  Moravian  Indians  having 
given  offense  to  their  belligerent  warriors  by  their 
code  of  peace,  there  would  be  no  friends  to  take  up 
arms  in  their  behalf. 

On  the   scattered  retreat  of   the  troops  which 

16 


182  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

followed  Colonel  Crawford's  defeat  a  man  named 
Mills,  who  had  engaged  in  the  unfortunate  expedi- 
tion, reached  the  Indian  Spring,  about  nine  miles 
from  Wheeling,  almost  in  sight  of  the  settlements. 

His  horse  being  thoroughly  fagged  out,  he  left 
the  beast  here  at  the  spring,  and  went  on  to  Wheel- 
ing on  foot. 

Thence  he  went  to  Van  Metre's  fort.  After  a 
couple  of  days'  rest  here,  he  determined  to  go  back 
after  his  horse,  and  started  out. 

He  had  not  gone  far  on  his  way  when  a  man 
started  up  from  the  long  grass,  a  white  man,  but  so 
jaded  and  worn  and  wild  as  to  appear  anything  but 
a  peaceably  inclined  settler. 

"Who  are  you?"  asked  Mills,  his  hand  on  his 
gun-lock. 

"A  friend,"  answered  the  stranger,  throwing  up 
his  hand  to  stay  the  action  of  the  gun  in  Mills's 
hand. 

"  Do  friends  start  up  suddenly  out  of  ambush  ?" 

"  Not  usually.     But  who  are  you  ?" 

"A  friend." 

"  Do  friends  act  so  readily  with  their  arms?" 

"  I  thought  you  an  Indian." 

"  As  I  thought  you ;  in  which  latter  case  I  meant 
death.  .  And  where  do  you  go,  friend  ?" 

"  For  my  horse  at  the  Indian  Spring,  where  I  left 
him  three  or  four  days  since." 


A  PURSUIT  AND  AN  ESCAPE,  183 

"  There  is  danger  there,  friend." 

"  I  am  used  to  danger.     I  was  with  Crawford." 

"Yes.  But  the  danger  is  different  here;  you 
travel  alone  through  a  hostile  country.  Let  your 
beast  go ;  you  only  expose  yourself  to  unnecessary 
danger.  I  have  a  horse — I  seldom  use  him ;  take 
him  in  welcome  and  spare  your  chance  of  life." 

"  How  cowardly  you  advise  me,"  laughed  Mills. 
"You  are  one  of  those  who  stay  at  home  and  prate 
of  danger  to  us  who  go  to  protect  you." 

"  Home  !     I  have  no  home." 

"Do  you  live  as  Girty  lives?" 

"  I  have  seen  Girty,  and  I  would  like  to  be  with 
the  Indians  as  he  is." 

"  You  villain !  do  you  dare  say  this  to  me  ?  Do 
you  dare  avow  a  friendship  with  the  Indians?" 

"  I  have  done  no  such  thing.  I  have  said  I 
should  like  to  be  with  the  Indians  as  closely  related 
as  Girty  is.  So  I  would,  but  it  would  be  because  I 
might  have  the  better  chance  to  kill  them." 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  I  was  with  Crawford  too ;  I  did  my  share  in  tho 
work ;  would  that  it  had  been  twenty-fold  more !" 

"Who  are  you?" 

"  Lewis  Wetzel." 

Mills  looked  at  the  harsh,  weather-beaten  stranger. 

"  Forgive  me,  I  did  not  know  you,"  ho  said,  some- 
thing in  the  other's  face  riveting  his  attention. 


184  LEWIS.  WETZEL. 

• 
It  was  this  something  in  Lewis  Wetzel's  face  that 

attracted  the  rude  settlers  to  him,  but  what  it  was 

they  could  not  have  told  had  they  even  had  a 

thought  of  its  meaning. 

In  these  latter  times,  or  in  less  wild  places  than 
he  was,  the  habitual  expression  on  the  scout's  face 
might  have  been  denominated  repression ;  repres- 
sion of  all  the  springs  of  life,  a  hushing  of  every 
instinct  but  the  predominant  one.  The  people  were 
only  attracted  by  the  expression,  and  respected  it 
without  knowing  it.  So  it  was  with  Mills,  who 
begged  forgiveness  and  knew  not  why. 

Together  the  two  men  now  proceeded  to  the 
Indian  Spring,  for  Wetzel  would  not  allow  Mills  to 
go  alone. 

On  the  way  one  night  they  found  an  Indian, 
apparently  astray  from  his  tribe,  sleeping  beside  a 
little  fire,  and  farther  from  the  fire  rested  a  young 
dusky  maiden. 

The  chief  awoke  on  the  approach  of  the  two 
white  men. 

Wetzel's  gun  sighted  him,  when  the  girl  arose 
from  the  ground  with  a  shriek  and  threw  herself 
upon  the  breast  of  her  lover — for  so  he  explained 
himself  to  be,  and  how  he  had  run  away  from  their 
tribe  because  of  opposition  to  their  marriage. 

When  Wetzel  saw  her  devotion,  he  lowered  his 


A  PURSUIT  AND  AN  ESCAPE.  185 

gun,  a  tremor  seizing  bis  arm.  "  Go!"  he  said ;  "  the 
woman  has  made  me  break  my  vow.  Go !  before  I 
repent." 

"Eepent  of  what?"  asked  the  Indian  boldly, 
throwing  the  maiden  from  him. 

"  Of  not  killing  you  when  I  had  the  chance," 
answered  Wetzel. 

"It  is  the  white  man's  big  talk,"  sneered  the 
Indian. 

"  Go !"  commanded  Wetzel,  paying  little  attention 
to  this  insolence. 

"It  is  the  red  man's  land,"  said  the  Indian,  "and 
the  white  man  is  the  interloper.  The  white  man 
fears  the  red  man,  say  what  he  will." 

Wetzel  turned  to  the  girl.  "  Get  him  away,"  he 
said. 

She  ran  to  her  lover,  entreating  him.  He 
answered  her  coldly,  but  pretended  to  put  up  his 
gun,  which  he  had  taken  firmly  in  his  hand. 

Wetzel  turned  his  back  on  the  pair,  and  just  then 
a  bullet  whistled  close  to  his  ear,  the  ungenerous 
Indian  having  fired  his  gun  at  the  white  man  who 
spared  his  life.     AVetzel  turned  like  a  wild  beast. 

"  So  much  for  my  broken  oath,"  he  said,  and  shot 
the  Indian  down,  and  left  the  spot,  with  the  girl 
wailing  over  the  prostrate  body  of  her  lover. 

The  two  men  now  went  on  to  the  spring,  and 


186  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

here  they  found  Mills's  horse,  but  it  was  tied  to  a 
tree. 

"VVetzel  cried  out :  "  Treachery !     Beware !" 

But  Mills  walked  up  to  the  tree  to  unfasten  the 
animal,  when  instantly  a  discharge  of  guns  followed, 
and  he  fell  lifeless,  pierced  by  a  dozen  bullets. 

Wetzel,  knowing  that  his  only  chance  of  escape 
was  in  instant  flight,  braced  himself  and  with  a 
plunge  rushed  through  the  line  of  astonished 
Indians  who  had  now  appeared  on  the  scene  and 
bounded  off  at  the  top  of  his  speed. 

He  was  followed  by  four  fleet  Indians,  in  rapid 
pursuit,  and  a  hail  of  bullets.  On,  on  he  sped.  His 
Indian  pursuers  yelped  and  whooped  in  proud  ex- 
ultation of  soon  having  their  victim. 

For  half  a  mile  the  chase  was  kept  up,  and  then 
one  of  the  savages  had  gotten  so  close  that  Wetzel 
was  afraid  he  might  fling  his  tomahawk  with  the 
usual  unerring  aim ;  but,  instantly  wheeling,  he 
shot  the  red  man  dead  in  his  tracks. 

In  his  early  youth  Wetzel  had  acquired  the  habit 
of  reloading  his  gun  while  at  full  run,  and  now  this 
practice  was  his  good  friend.  Keeping  in  advance 
of  his  pursuers  for  another  half  mile  or  so,  a  second 
Indian  came  close,  and  Wetzel  turning  to  fire,  the 
savage  caught  the  end  of  his  gun.  The  Indian 
tugged  and  wrenched,  and   met  a  strength  that 


A  PURSUIT  AND  AN  ESCAPE.  187 

competed  with  his  own.  The  other  Indians  w^ere 
now  in  sight,  coming  recklessly  on.  By  a  powerful 
movement,  the  Indian,  possessed  of  vast  strength, 
brought  Wetzel  to  his  knee. 

"  AVhite  man  die !  White  man  burn !"  said  the 
savage.  "  Come,  hurry  up,  chiefs,  and  see  Wetzel 
die!" 

Perhaps  the  astonishment  of  Wetzel  at  hearing  his 
name  in  the  mouth  of  his  enemy  gave  him  a  new 
impulse,  for  by  a  last  effort  he  freed  his  gun  from 
the  hands  of  the  Indian,  and,  quickly  thrusting  the 
barrel  to  the  side  of  the  red  neck,  pulled  the  trigger, 
killing  him  instantly. 

This  seemed  to  astonish  the  other  two  Indians, 
for  they  had  seen  him  discharge  his  gun  with  fell 
purpose  before,  and  knew  that  he  had  not  been 
allow^ed  sufficient  time  since  then  to  pause  and  re- 
load his  weapon. 

"  The  long-knife  is  a  devil !"  shouted  one  of  the 
braves,  holding  back. 

"  Kill  the  long-knife  devil !"  cried  the  other  one ; 
"  the  Manitou  demands  it." 

But  for  an  instant  both  of  them  seemed  bewil- 
dered. 

This  trifling  halt  of  astonishment  gave  Wetzel  an 
advantage,  and  separated  him  by  about  two  hundred 
steps  from  the  Indians,  and  before  they  recovered 


188  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

their  equanimity  he  was  fleeing  like  an  antelope 
over  the  plains,  his  trusty  gun  hugged  closely  to  his 
breast  by  one  hand,  exhilaration  over  what  he  had 
done  lending  him  a  speed  he  had  never  possessed 
before,  although  in  his  time  of  youthful  discipline, 
when  he  awaited  a  man's  strength,  he  had  practiced 
running,  as  well  as  other  modes  of  Indian  warfare. 

As  he  sped  along,  he  could  hear  far  behind  him 
the  light  thumps  on  the  ground  as  the  two  Indians 
joined  in  pursuit  of  him,  maddened  into  a  like 
exhilaration  with  his  own  as  they  thought  of  his 
escape, — the  man  of  whom  their  spies  reported  won- 
ders, and  whose  oath  was  not  unknown  in  more 
than  one  tribe. 

On,  and  on  they  went;  far  away  the  Indian 
horses  looked  on  for  a  minute  at  the  flying  men, 
and,  tossing  their  manes,  plunged  aside-;  droves  of 
turkeys  spread  their  wings  and  moved — a  black 
cloud — over  the  blue,  cawing  their  note  of  trouble 
as  they  went. 

On,  and  on,  came  the  men,  the  white  man  first, 
the  savages,  like  beasts  of  prey,  resolved  on  blood. 
But  the  white  man  did  not  go  as  fast  as  at  first: 
he  was  visibly  slackening  his  pace.  Was  he  giving 
out? 

Leaping  with  immense  strides,  he  yet  mjtnaged  to 
keep  some  distance  ahead..  Was  his  apparent  weak- 
ness but  a  sham  ? 


A  PURSUIT  AND  AN  ESCAPE.  189 

On,  and  on  they  went.  Now  the  Indians  were 
gaining  on  the  white  man.  They  could  afford  to 
send  out  a  wild  note  of  triumph  towards  the  scout. 
Nearer  and  nearer  they  came  to  him.  Slower  and 
slower  he  went. 

"  If  you  halt  now,  we  will  not  kill  you,"  one  of 
the  braves  called  after  the  scout.     Still  he  went  on^ 

"  If  you  let  us  take  you  alive,  we  will  grant  yoa 
many  days'  life,"  a  brave  now  called  out. 

To  take  such  a  man  prisoner  and  lead  him  in(.D 
camp  and  there  torture  him  and  try  his  wonderful 
endurance  would  be  a  sight  worthy  the  calling  of 
all  the  scattered  tribe  together,  a  sight  for  the  edifi- 
cation of  old  and  young  alike.  They  would  far 
rather  have  him  alive  than  dead.  See  how  feebly 
he  went !  One  brave  urged  on  the  other  to  ran  and 
grasp  the  white  man. 

Wetzel  heard  him  say :  "  Do  not  throw  yo'ar 
tomahawk  unless  he  is  too  weak  to  stand  muoh 
torture.  Be  sure  and  keep  him  without  a  wound 
till  he  is  taken  into  camp." 

"I  shall  be  without  a  w^ound  when  I  am  taken 
into  their  camp,  indeed,"  muttered  Wetzel  as  he 
went  along,  his  tottering  gait  surely  deceiving  his 
pursuers  into  the  belief  that  he  was  making  little 
progress  and  narrowmg  materially  the  distance 
between  them. 


190  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  He  holds  up,"  said  a  brave,  "  and  if  his  gun  falls 
from  his  hand  then  he  is  weak  enough  to  kill." 

But  such  an  accident  did  not  occur:  his  gun 
remained  in  his  hands,  and  although  he  used  his 
arms  strangely  the  gun  did  not  fall  to  the  ground. 
And  indeed  he  was  using  his  arms  very  strangely 
as  he  went.     He  was  reloading  his  gun  1 

There  were  woods  now  close  to  him,  and  to  this 
the  white  man  directed  his  steps.  Behind  him  he 
heard  the  whizzing  of  the  feathers  in  the  pursuing 
Indians'  garments.  Panting,  his  mouth  open,  his 
eyes  starting  from  his  head,  almost  spent,  he  yet 
spurred  on,  managing  to  near  the  woods  as  the 
foremost  Indian  sent  aloof  a  long,  loud  shout  of 
victory. 

The  woods  were  reached  and  entered,  and  just  at 
that  moment  a  tomahawk  sped  b}^  the  flying  white 
man  and  buried  itself  up  to  the  neck  in  a  tree 
in  front  of  him,  immediately  above  his  head,  liis 
bending  his  head  to  send  home  the  bullet  into  his 
gun-barrel  alone  saving  his  Hfe. 

He  was  spent;  his  strength  was  gone.  His  teeth 
close  shut  together,  his  nostrils  dilated,  he  yet 
feigned  a  greater  weakness  than  was  really  his,  and 
even  stopped  entirely  once  or  twice  in  order  to  let 
his  pursuers  gain  on  him,  and  then  he  looked 
around  him.    As  he  looked  around,  the  Indians 


A  PURSUIT  AND  AN  ESCAPE.  191 

disappeared.  Then  lie  would  go  on  a  little  way, 
again  to  look  around,  only  to  find  himself  alone, 
the  Indians  having  again  disappeared. 

This  was  repeated  for  perhaps  half  a  dozen  times, 
the  Indians  slipping  behind  trees  every  time  he 
faced  them,  and  regarding  him  from  those  fastnesses 
in  awe  as  much  as  hate. 

Nothing  coming  of  these  manoeuvres,  ¥/etzel  took 
to  the  run  again  for  a  mile  or  two  farther,  hoping 
that  his  run  would  not  be  alone. 

In  this  he  was  not  disappointed,  fjr  in  a  little 
while  he  thought  he  heard  the  thud  of  feet  on  the 
ground  back  of  him. 

"I  will  not  give  them  up,"  he  muttered,  and 
listened  intently. 

Yes,  he  was  not  mistaken:  the  Indians  were 
pursuing  him  silently  through  the  wood.  At  last 
the  trees  were  not  so  close  together,  the  path  not 
quite  so  circuitous.  The  light  became  clearer,  the 
ground  less  slippery.  And  there  were  sounds  back 
of  him :  he  was  pursued  by  two  pairs  of  moccasinned 
feet. 

Then  there  before  him  was  an  open  sunlit  place, 
a  space  barren  of  herbage,  with  not  a  spear  of  the 
long  grass  so  often  a  snare  to  the  flying  foot, — one 
of  the  open  bare  places  that  suddenly  start  before 
the  eye  of  the  trapper  of  the  prairie,  unaccountably 


192  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

denuded  of  life ;  one  of  the  haunted  spots  of  the 
Indian  superstition  that  deals  in  natural  phenomena 
and  calls  it  supernatural  magic.  But,  while  in 
peace  they  avoided  such  places,  war  left  them  no 
preference. 

Wetzel  knew  this ;  so  towards  this  open  space  he 
ran.  He  reached  it,  and  ran  a  little  way.  Then  he 
slackened  and  turned,  for  no  steps  pursued  him. 

•  He  wheeled  around,  but  the  foremost  Indian  was 
behind  a  tree  in  a  wooded  enclosure,  peering  out 
after  the  strange  man. 

The  tree  did  not  screen  his  body,  however;  so 
Wetzel  fired  and  dangerously  wounded  him. 

With  a  screech  of  terror  the  remaining  Indian, 
who  had  also  betaken  himself  to  a  sheltering  tree, 
threw  up  his  arms  and  took  to  his  legs,,  yelli-ng,  as 
he  went  along  the  forest:  "No  catch  dat  man;  him 
gun  always  loaded,"  and  disappeared  from  sight. 

With  disappointed  eyes  Wetzel  gazed  after  him, 
but  was  forced  to  be  content  with  what  damage  he 
had  already  done. 

"  But  there  are  only  three ;  there  should  have 
been  four,"  he  said  ruefully. 

He  turned  away,  and  found  that  he  staggered  as 
he  walked.  It  could  not  be  all  weakness  that  caused 
hira  to  falter  so.  He  had  often  run  as  far  and  as 
swiftly  as  this.     Surely  he  was  not  wounded  ?     No, 


A  PURSUIT  AND  AN  ESCAPE.  193 

the  day's  adventures  had  been  too  much  joy — he 
\^'as  intoxicated  as  though  by  liquor.  Wetzel  always 
dwelt  upon  this  adventure  with  peculiar  vim,  assert- 
ing that  it  was  the  first  time  he  really  knew  joy. 

But  he  made  his  way  on,  and  in  time  came  to 
Van  Metre's,  the  scalps  in  his  belt. 

As  he  went  into  the  clearing  of  the  fort,  a  light 
step  echoed  his.  Was  it  the  Indian  come  back?  A 
woman's  hand  was  laid  on  his  arm. 

"  You  are  a  brave  man,  Lewis  Wetzel,"  said  the 
voice  of  Berta  Rosencranz,  and  she  pointed  to  the 
dangling  scalps. 

"  Is  it  only  you  ?"  he  said. 

"  Only  me !"  she  echoed.  "  I  hope  I  am  some- 
thing. But  you  are  a  brave  man,  though,  Lewis 
Wetzel.  I  almost  believe  the  story  your  mother 
tells  about  3'our  being  wrapped  in  a  flag  that  Grizzle 
Heister  brought  to  you  when  you  were  no  age  at  all. 
Surely  that  flag  must  have  entered  your  soul." 

"  Not  that  flag,"  he  said,  lighting  up. 

"  Why  not  ?  I  don't  like  all  this  nonsense  about 
United  States  of  America.  This  union  of  the  colo- 
nies cannot  possibly  last.     That  flag " 

"  That  flag  was  wet  with  my  mother's  tears,"  he 
said. 

"  Your  mother's  tears !    Dear  knows  you've  caused 

your  mother  more  tears  than  were  ever  shed  on  that 
17 


194  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

pretty  flag.     Do  you  know  you're  breaking  your 
mother's   heart? — that  it  is  broken   already?     She 
would   so   like   you  to   stay  home  and — marry,  I 
guess;  most  people  marry,  don't  they?     But  what  a 
very   bold   girl   Grizzle   Heister   must  have    been^^ 
mustn't  she  ?     Don't  you  hate  bold  girls  ?     I  do.     I 
w^ouldn't  be  a  bold  girl  for  anything.     A  bold  girl 
would    be  sure  to  tell  you    that  she    liked  you, 
wouldn't  she  ?     But  I  wouldn't  tell  you  I  liked  you, 
although  I  do  like  you ;  now^  would  I  ?     I'd  rather 
die  first,  wouldn't  I  ?    That's  because  I'm  not  a  bold 
girl.     Bold  girls   never  die,  do  they?     How  you 
must  hate  that  awful   Heister  girl,  mustn't  you? 
I  guess  she  never  had  much  of  a  bringing-up,  had 
she  ?    The  idea  of  giving  a  little  boy  a  flag !     Isn't 
it  dreadful?     Indeed,  I  quite  feel  for  poor  Grizzle 
Heister  because  she  was  a  bold   girl.     Now  I  like 
pretty,  modest  girls,  not  all  the  time  throwing  them- 
selves at  a  man's  head,  don't  you  ?    But  then  Grizzle 
Heister  was  a  miserably  old  girl,  wasn't  she  ?    I  hate 
did  girls,  don't  you  ?    Oh,  Lewis  Wetzel,  whatever  do 
you  think ! — Charley  Madison  wants  to  marry  me  ! 
He's  a  nice  fellow ;  you  know  very  well  he  is.     And 
such  a  kind  fellow  to  women.     What  would  you  do 
if  you  were  me? — would  you  say  yes  or  no?     I 
wish  you  would  advise  me,  will  you?" 

"  Yes,  marry  him,"  said  Wetzel,  taking  her  hand 
from  his  arm  where  it  yet  rested. 


A  PURSUIT  AND  AN  ESCAPE.  195 

But  she  burst  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

"  Oh,  how  can  you,  how  can  you !"  she  sobbed. 

"  What  have  I  done  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Everything,"  she  retorted,  with  the  peevishness 
of  a  woman  who  is  asked  what  causes  her  tears. 

"  I  have  done  nothing  that  I  know  of.  You 
caught  me  as  I  came  in." 

"  I  didn't  catch  you." 

"  And  you  asked  my  advice  about  your  marrying 
a  man." 

"  Oh,  you  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  yourself  for 
calling  him  a  man!  He's  not  a  man,  thank  you, 
Lewis  Wetzel.  He's  as  good  as  you  are.  A  mere 
man,  indeed !  I've  a  good  mind  to  tell  him  what 
you  said  about  him."  And  Berta  flounced  away, 
Wetzel  gazing  after  her. 

He  could  not  understand  it  at  all,  and  wondered 
why  Berta  always  seemed  to  like  to  ask  him  queer 
questions  which  almost  any  one  else  could  answer 
apparently  far  more  to  her  satisfaction  than  he 
could. 

The  next  time  he  met  her  it  was  he  who  made 
the  advance. 

"  Berta,"  he  said,  "  I  am  sorry  we  do  not  under- 
stand each  other." 

"We  do,"  she  said  unctuously,  and  brightening 
unaccountably. 


196  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Then  I  am  very  glad,"  he  rejoined,  turning 
aside,  happy  that  he  had  not  offended  her.  But  her 
voice  arrested  him : 

"  Don't  go,"  she  said,  "  for  I  am  mistaken.  No, 
we  do  not  understand  each  other  at  all." 

"  I  thought  not,  and  I  am  very  sorry." 

"  If  you're  very  sorry  that  you  don't  understand 
a  person,  then  you'd  better  understand  a  person," 
said  Berta  logically. 

"Then  how  shall  I  go  about  it?"  he  asked. 

"  Why  understand  'em,"  she  returned. 

He  looked  at  her  for  explanation.  She  was  very 
pretty,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  and  her  mouth  smiled. 
He  wondered  that  nobody  had  asked  Berta  to  go 
and  be  married. 

"Thank  you,  Berta,"  he  said,  "that's  very  nice 
advice.  Now  do  you  know  wdiat  I  think  when  I 
look  at  you  ?" 

"  No.  Tell  me  what  you  think  when  you  look  at 
me,  Lewis  Wetzel.  Do  I  look  nice  when  you  look 
at  me?" 

"  Very." 

"  Well,  what  do  you  think  when  you  look  at  me?" 

"That " 

"What?" 

"  That  you  look  nice." 

"Really?" 


A  PURSUIT  AND  AN  ESCAPE.  197 

"Really.  And  I  think  something  else,  Berta, 
even  though  1  don't  understand  you." 

"  Something  else  nice  ?" 

"  Yes,  Berta,  even  though  I  don't  understand  you, 
I " 

"But  you  do  understand  me,  and  it  is  very  mean 
not  to  understand  people.  No,  no,  you  don't  under- 
stand me,  either ;  but  you  ought  to." 

*^I  suppose  so.  But  sometimes  we  don't  do  all 
that  we  ought  to  do  in  the  world,  little  Berta." 

"  Don't  we  ?    Well,  we  ought  to.    Why  don't  we  ?" 

'•  Because  we  cannot.  And  so  it  is  no  fault  of 
yours  or  mine,  either,  that  I  cannot  quite  understand 
you.     But  whenever  I  look  at  you  and  think " 

"And  think  I  look  nice?" 

"  Yes.     Whenever  I  look  at  you  and  think " 

"  You  said  that  before.  Why  don't  you  say  some- 
thing else.  You  can't  think  all  the  time  that  you 
think  I  look  nice." 

"  Yes,  I  can." 

" How  silly !    What  do  you  do  it  for?" 

"  I  can't  help  it." 

"  Oh,  Lewis  Wetzel,"  cried  Berta,  "  you  ought  to 
be  ashamed  of  yourself,  indeed  you  ought  to."  She 
went  and  put  her  hand  on  his  arm.  "And  now  tell 
me  what  else  you  think  when  you  look  at  me  and 
think  I  look  real  nice.     May  I  guess  ?" 


198  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"Yes." 

"Is  it  about  me?" 

"  Of  course." 

"  Is  it  about  you  too?" 

"I  don't  understand,"  he  said,  a  puzzled  expres- 
sion in  his  face. 

Berta  lost  all  patience  then. 

"  For  goodness'  sake,"  she  pouted,  "  why  are  you 
so  stupid  ?" 

"  I  can't  help  it." 

"  You  don't  try  to.  Here  I  am,  ready  to  help  you 
to  try,  and  you  won't  let  me.  If  I  was  a  man,  I'd 
understand  everything.'^ 

"There  are  some  things  that  even  a  man  is  better 
without  understanding." 

"  You  mean  me,  Lewis  Wetzel." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  he  said,  more 
puzzled  than  ever. 

"Well,  never  mind,"  she  cried,  "only  tell  me 
what  you  think  when  you  think " 

"  I  always  wonder  why  some  real  nice  fellow  don't 
come  along  and  marry  you,  Berta." 

She  looked  at  him  for  a  second  and  seemed 
thunderstruck  ;  then,  bursting  into  tears,  she  struck 
at  him,  ran  past  him  with  her  apron  to  her  eyes, 
and  left  him  standing  there,  lost  in  amazement. 

"  I  do  not  understand  Berta,"  he  said  abstractedly. 


AN  INDIAN  WA  YLAID.  [  199 


CHAPTER  X. 

AN   INDIAN   WAYLAID. 

A  GAIX,  shortly  after  this  Indian  escapade  and 
his  subsequent  meeting  with  the  pretty  Berta, 
Lewis  Wetzel  disappeared  from  the  midst  of  those 
who  knew  him,  and  was  only  heard  of  now  and 
then  as  having  been  seen  in  the  forest  by  some 
hardy  hunter,  going  on  his  human  quest  and  grant- 
ing little  talk  to  the  chance  friends  he  encountered. 

"  The  Injuns  are  not  thick  enough  here  for  him," 
was  the  opinion  of  the  men  at  Wheeling. 

"  Berta  Rosencranz  wants  to  be  too  thick  with 
him,"   was  the  opinion  of  the  women. 

"  He  is  too  thick-headed,"  was  Berta's  own  opin- 
ion, and  she  turned  up  her  little  nose  at  the  thought 
of  his  stupidity. 

For  Berta  could  pick  and  choose,  and  more  than 
one  delightful  man  had  suddenly  betaken  himself 
to  a  season  of  solitary  wandering  after  having 
pressed  his  suit  and  been  ignominiously  rejected  by 
Berta  Rosencranz. 

Yet  the  opinions  of  all  these  people  as  to  the 


200  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

cause  of  Wetzel's  periodical  disappearances  were 
scarcely  correct.  His  was  a  restless,  chafing  nature ; 
there  was  a  constant  want  for  something  without  a 
name,  and  unattainable,  that  urged  him  on  from 
time  to  time  to  go  away  from  humanity  and  try  to 
seek  whatever  it  was  he  desired  so  acutely  in  the 
dusky  forests,  in  communion  with  the  most  secret 
harbors  of  nature.  At  a  later  age,  and  with  modifi- 
cations, this  restless,  wistful  nature  would  have  been 
determined  as  that  of  a  poet  or -a  scientist — the  one 
as  much  as  the  other  so  far  removed  from  the 
dissecting  ken  of  practical  life. 

Any  one  w^alking  on  a  busy  city  street,  if  he  has 
any  power  of  sight  apart  from  mere  physical  vision, 
will  assuredly  be  struck  by  a  dozen  faces  in  an  hour 
— faces  that  are  but  a  mask  of  something  behind 
and  beyond  them — faces  which  he  is  assured  tell 
little  of  what  the  wearers  of  them  are,  saving  one 
solitary  phase  of  the  entire  life. 

If  such  an  observer  be  a  rhymer,  he  will  go  home 
and  make  some  melancholy  verses,  without  quite 
knowing  what  inspires  them.  If  he  is  a  practical 
man,  he  will  have  the  "blues"  for  a  little  while, 
without  knowing  why.  Lewis  Wetzel's  face  upon  a 
busy  street  might  have  caused  verses  and  been 
responsible  for  the  "  blues." 

Wetzel's  face  spoke  of  a  hush,  and  little  else,  to  a 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  .      201 

casual  observer.  Men  coming  out  of  prison  cells 
after  a  lengthened  incarceration  have  much  of  the 
look  in  their  faces — the  old  passions  and  thoughts 
have  not  died  out,  but  one  concentrated  idea  has  left 
its  stamp  on  the  countenance  which  it  will  take, 
perhaps,  years  of  mingling  with  the  world  and  the 
w^orld's  people  wholly  to  eradicate. 

The  prison  cell  is  as  much  a  world  as  the  wild 
nature  around  the  scout. 

"  Stone  walls  do  not  a  prison  make, 
Nor  iron  bars  a  cage," 

was  sung  long  ago  with  full  understanding  of  this 
principle. 

Yet  it  was  not  all  communing  with  nature  out 
there  in  the  dimness  of  ages-old  trees.  There 
were  scenes  there  which  were  discordant  with  the 
beauty  of  the  place,  and  cries  of  pain  that  startled 
many  a  singing  bird  and  hushed  its  hymn  of 
thanks  or  turned  it  into  chirps  of  terror.  Indians 
w^ere  in  those  forests,  and  Lewis  Wetzel  was  never  so 
much  at  ease  and  free  from  his  irksome  restlessness 
as  when  he  was  on  the  trail  of  a  red-skin. 

The  vengeance  he  wreaked  in  these  places  was 
quietly  done,  and  little  or  no  record  has  come  down 
to  us  of  the  two  years  of  hermit-dwelling  in  the 
woods  until  circumstances  brought  him  to  the  front 


202  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

again.  His  absence  in  a  little  while  failed  to  elicit 
comment:  he  was  admired  for  his  bravery — but  who 
missed  him  ? 

His  mother  had  her  friends,  and  had  pleasure  in 
women's  gossip,  and  no  longer  wished  to  regain  her 
high  estate  of  a  brave  woman.  His  sisters  had 
their  friends,  and  were  blooming  out  of  girlhood, 
with  young  women's  dreams  and  hopes.  His 
brothers  had  as  much  as  they  could  do  in  looking 
after  themselves,  as  brothers  even  now  often  have 
when  any  trouble  is  anticipated  if  they  try  to  find 
out  too  much  about  their  relatives.  He  had  never 
had  many  bosom  friends,  had  never  courted  friend- 
ship.    So  he  was  missed  very  little. 

At  length,  in  the  autumn  of  1785,  he  once  more 
appeared  in  the  haunts  of  the  settlers,  a  strange, 
taciturn  man,  loaded  down  with  Indian  scalps.  He 
had  spoken  to  few  men  in  the  years  of  his  absence, 
and  his  tongue  seemed,  too  accustomed  to  silence  to 
be  loosed  now. 

He  went  quietly  around  the  places  he  had 
formerly  known,  looking  kindly  on  all  whom  he 
chanced  to  meet.  Again  the  children  and  dogs 
were  his  friends.  Often  he  was  seen  surrounded  by 
little  ones,  who  took  the  most  familiar  liberties 
with  him. 

A  pretty  woman   once  saw  him   in  the  woods 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  20^ 

covered  entirely  with  flowers,  while  a  party  of  little 
children  danced  around  him  in  wild  delight,  drag- 
ging his  gun  and  powder-horn  after  them. 

"  Such  a  man !"  said  the  pretty  woman,  hurrying 
away,  and  not  disturbing  the  sport. 

"  Who  is  there  ?"  asked  Wetzel,  raising  himsejf  on 
one  arm,  for  he  had  heard  the  movement  of  the 
w^oman  going  through  the  leaves. 

The  children  paused  for  a  minute  and  looked  up. 

"  Oh,  it's  only  Berta,"  said  they,  and  Wetzel  sank 
back  upon  the  flowers  again. 

Again  this  same  pretty  woman  saw  him  beating  a 
man  for  ill-treating  a  dog  and  tossing  its  little  blind 
pups  into  the  water.  She  waited  until  she  saw  how 
the  battle  went  and  that  Wetzel  severely  punished 
the  other  man. 

"  Such  a  man !"  she  said  as  before.  But  she 
gathered  her  skirts  close  and  dodged  behind  trees 
so  that  he  might  not  see  her;  and  when  the  beaten 
man  presented  himself  among  the  people  she  was 
the  hardest  calumniator  of  the  men  who  ill-treated 
dumb  animals,  and  told  him  to  his  face  that  his 
treatment  had  not  been  half  severe  enough. 

But  Wetzel  had  not  returned  to  his  old  haunts 
for  ease  and  rest.  The  occasion  of  his  coming  now 
was  !Major  Doughty's  expedition  down  the  Ohio 
to  the  mouth  of  the  Muskingum,  to  build  Fort 
Harmar. 


204  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  completion  of  this  work  appears  to  have 
been  entrusted  to  General  Harmar  himself,  who 
had  been  appointed  commander-in-chief  of  the 
forces  on  the  northwestern  frontier  for  the  year 
1785.  Shortly  after  assuming  the  command  and 
proceeding  to  the  fort,  he  employed  a  number  of 
white  men  to  go  with  a  flag  to  the  nearest  Indian 
tribes  to  prevail  on  the  warriors  to  come  to  the  fort 
and  there  conclude  a  treaty  of  peace. 

As  General  Harmar  was  known  to  be  an  honor- 
able man,  the  invitation  was  not  disregarded,  and  a 
large  force  of  Indians  encamped  on  the  Muskingum 
Eiver  a  few  miles  above  its  mouth. 

General  Harmar  then  issued  his  proclamation, 
giving  notice  that  a  cessation  of  hostilities  and  a 
laying  down  of  arms  was  mutually  agreed  upon 
between  the  red  men  and  the  whites  until  a  strong 
effort  for  a  treaty  of  peace  had  been  concluded.  But 
as  treaties  of  peace  with  the  Indians  had  been  so 
frequently  and  flagrantly  violated,  very  little  faith 
was  placed  in  the  stability  of  such  agreements  by 
the  shrewder  frontiermen,  notwithstanding  that 
they  were  as  often  the  aggressors  as  the  Indians 
themselves. 

Half  the  backwoodsmen  of  the  times  had  been 
born  in  forts,  and  had  been  reared,  so  to  speak,  in  a 
state  of  siege.     The  Indian  war  had  continued  so 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  205 

unbroken  for  such  a  length  of  time,  and  was,  more- 
over, so  bloody  and  outrageous,  that  they  believed 
war  with  the  savages  was  the  normal  state  of  affairs, 
and  would  continue  just  so  long  as  an  Indian  re- 
mained to  prove  treacherous  and  to  attack  his  prey 
in  the  most  cowardly  and  secret  manner.  Their 
experience  and  their  inability  to  believe  in  any- 
thing partaking  of  the  Indian  nature  made  it 
impossible  to  place  confidence  in  the  stability  of 
treaties  with  the  Indians.  Lewis  Wetzel,  hearing  of 
this  proposed  treaty,  came  to  the  fort. 

General  Harmar  was  anxiously  engaged  in  his 
endeavors  to  effect  peace, — a  peace  which  the  scout 
thought  scandalous,  but  which  he  had  no  power  or 
voice  to  set  aside,  and  he  deemed  that  as  the 
Indians  must  be  incessantly  passing  and  repassing 
between  their  camp  and  the  fort  there  would  be  a 
fair  opportunity  of  adding  a  few  scalps  to  his  many. 
For  days  he  loitered  around  the  fort.  General 
Harmar  knew  that  he  meant  vengeance,  and  that 
he  alone  might  yet  make  the  peace  abortive.  He 
commanded  that  Wetzel  should  be  brought  before 
him. 

"  He  must  be  caught  first,"  said  a  settler. 

"  He  shall  be !"  angrily  exclaimed  the  general. 

"  Shall  be  ?"  quietly  concluded  the  settler. 

The  general  looked  at  the  man.  There  was 
18 


206  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

something  in  the  impassive  face  of  the  frontierman 
that  suggested  to  the  officer  that  Lewis  Wetzel,  if  he 
had  no  bosom  friends  who  took  his  griefs  as  their 
own,  yet  was  not  without  aid  if  he  chose  to  avail 
himself  of  it. 

"  General,"  said  another  frontierman  to  the  com- 
mandant, "don't  you  have  too  much  to  say  to  Lewis 
Wetzel." 

"I  do  not  intend  to  have  my  projects  for  peace 
set  aside  because  of  one  murderous  man." 

"  Murderous !  That's  a  hard  word,  general.  Lewis 
Wetzel  never  committed  murder." 

"i)o  you  mean  to  say  that  he  never  killed  an 
Indian?" 

"  Do  you  call  that  murder  ?'* 

"What  else  is  it?" 

"His  father  was  murdered;  he  only  kills  his 
father's  murderers.  But,  peace  or  no  peace,  Lewis 
Wetzel  had  better  be  left  alone." 

"Why?" 

"  Well,  you  see  the  people  kind  o'  dote  on  him, 
and  if  there's  a  hair  of  his  head  hurt — blessed  if  I 
know  what  mightn't  happen." 

"  Nothing  shall  happen." 

"We'll  see." 

"We  will." 

But  the  general  awoke  to  the  consciousness  that 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  207 

Wetzel  was  not  merely  a  renegade,  as  many  Indian 
scouts  were  regarded.  The  people  understood  the 
feeling  that  actuated  him,  and  fully  sympathized 
with  him. 

So  Wetzel  loitered  about  Fort  Harmar,  and  he 
often  chanced  upon  a  settler  or  two  without  under- 
standing why  so  many  frontiermen  had  nothing 
more  to  do  than  he  had. 

General  Harmar  understood  a  little  better,  and 
knew  that  these-  settlers  loitering  in  the  steps  of 
Wetzel  were  a  guard  to  defend  the  scout  from  the 
incursions  of  the  military. 

"  I  cannot  understand,"  said  the  scout  once  to  a 
chance  acquaintance,  "  why  you  men  love  idleness 
so.  I  have  been  here  for  days ;  it  is  a  busy  season, 
or  ought  to  be ;  and  yet  each  day,  wherever  I  walk, 
I  always  come  across  a  strong,  hearty  man  or  two 
who  go  slinking  on,  seeming  so  lazy  as  not  even  to 
bestow  a  second  look  on  me  who  cross  their  path." 

"  Well,"  said  his  acquaintance,  "  it  do  seem  queer, 
don't  it?" 

"You  yourself,"  continued  Wetzel,  "have  you 
nothing  to  do  to-day  ?" 

"Who?  Me?  Lor'  bless  you,  Wetzel,  I'm  not 
goin'  to  my  grave  doubled  up  like  old  Daddy 
Eberly,  till  I  really  believe  we'll  have  to  bury  him 
in  a  barrel — he's  that  round.    He  worked  too  hard, 


208  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

and  work  doubled  him  up.  No,  sir;  I  haven't  got 
the  first  thing  to  do.  And,  sir,  if  you  choose,  you 
can  see  me  any  day  you  walk  around,  sir,  and  it'^s 
none  of  your  business,  sir,  neither  is  it  any  of  mine." 

Wetzel  walked  away  from  the  man,  who  was 
grinning  and  clearly  making  fun  of  his  interlocutor. 

"It  is  none  of  my  business,"  the  scout  said  to 
himself.  "  The  man  was  right,  my  business  is  not 
with  idle  men;  it  is  with  busy  devils." 

One  day  as  he  rested  on  a  slope  of  ground  over- 
looking the  fort,  his  eyes  turned  towards  a  squad  of 
men  going  through  a  rude  form  of  drill,  Wetzel  was 
startled  by  a  voice  saying : 
t    "  Not  so  bad,  eh,  partner  ?" 

He  looked  up.  Beside  him  stood  a  tall,  thin, 
begrimed  man,  looking  intently  over  towards  the 
drilling  men  at  the  fort. 

"  Guess  you  don't  know  me,"  he  said  after  awhile, 
his  eyes  still  fixed  upon  the  fort.  "  Guess  you  have 
forgot  old  friends." 

"Are  you  Veach  Dickerson?"  asked  Wetzel,  re- 
membering a  man  as  reckless  as  himself  and  filled 
with  as  bitter  a  hatred  for  the  Indians 

"  You've  got  it,"  said  Dickerson.  "  And  now  tell 
mc  what  brings  you  here  ?" 

Wetzel  imparted  to  him  his  plan. 

"  I'm  with  you,"  said  the  other,  as  the  scout  con- 
cluded ;  "  I'm  your  man.'' 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  209 

Wetzel  never  cared  particularly  for  a  partner  in 
Lis  battles,  arguing  that  it  was  from  no  common 
love  of  bloodshed  that  he  acted  as  he  did,  but  that 
his  old  injury  called  aloud  to  him  at  all  times, 
demanded  revenge,  and  would  not  allow  him  to  rest 
inactive.  But  that  injury  was  no  other  man's ;  he 
held  jealously  to  it  as  his  own  alone,  and  that  no 
one  else  on  earth  had  a  right  to  avenge  his 
slaughtered  father — his  own  hand  only  must  wither 
and  grow  tired  before  the  spilled  blood  of  his  father 
would  be  fitly  and  sufficiently  atoned  for. 

"  Da  the  varmints  at  the  fort  keep  you  from 
beginning  now?"  asked  Dickerson,  impatient  to 
begin  the  work  of  destruction. 

"  No,"  answered  Wetzel ;  but  few  Indians  have 
come  up  yet." 

"  There's  danger  to  you,  though,"  said  Dickerson. 

"  It  would  be  murder  if  no  danger  attended  what 
I  do." 

"While  now?"  questioned  Dickerson,  not  quite 
apt  at  this  reasoning. 

*'  Now  it  is  only  carrying  out  the  Bible  precept, 
*  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,' "  said  Wetzel. 

Dickerson  looked  at  him. 

"  Don't  that  same  Bible  say  a  little  something, 
here  and  there,  about  forgiving  our  enemies?" 
asked  be. 


210  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Yes,  forgive  our  enemies  when  they  come  to  us 
contrite  and  asking  for  mercy.  Not  when  they 
creep  silently  over  the  ground  in  our  tracks ;  come 
to  us  in  the  night  with  murder  in  their  minds;  wait 
for  us  in  -quiet  places,  cruel,  sharp  knives  in  their 
hands;  study  day  after  day  how  they  can  best  injure 
us,  and  carry  in  their  minds  a  hatred  for  us  only 
made  greater  and  more  deadly  from  feeding  on  the 
imagined  cause.  The  Bible  don't  say  one  word 
about  forgiving  such  an  enemy.  Such  an  enemy 
crucifies  forgiveness,  pierces  the  heart  of  forgiveness, 
and  bathes  the  parching  lips  of  forgiveness  with 
vinegar  and  gall.  No,  no,  no ;  I  have  read  all  about 
that  for  years,  when  I  have  been  alone.  And  then, 
more, — how  can  a  mere  Injim  be  an  enemy?" 

"  The  last  part  is  true,"  assented  Dickerson,  con- 
vinced.    "And  now  come  on." 

They  set  off  without  any  further  delay,  and  soon 
arrived  at  the  desired  point,  and  sat  down  in  am- 
bush in  the  long  grass  near  the  path  leading  from 
the  fort  to  the  camp,  and  waited  grim  as  fate.  They 
could  hear  the  men  in  the  fort  laughing,  and  over 
from  the  Indian  camp  came  the  loud  squeal  of  a 
pig  which  the  savages  were  killing.  Birds  flew  up 
from  the  grass,  their  mouths  filled  with  woolly  roots 
and  mosses  for  their  little  nests.  Wetzel's  eye  fol- 
lowed these  birds,  which  meant  home  and  love  and 


AN  INDIAN  WA  YLAID.  21 1 

mated  happiness.  Did  the  man  hiding  in  the  grass, 
and  filled  with  intent  of  doing  harm,  yearn  for  some 
of  the  peace  which  even  little  birds  could  have,  and 
which  was  denied  him?  Did  careless  birds  carry 
no  deadly  life-loDg  hatred  in  their  little  sowgful 
breasts?  Bat  birds  had  no  souls,  no  intelligence, 
were  not  responsible;  if  their  fathers  or  mothers 
were  killed,  they  were  not  called  upon  to  avenge  the 
murder,  but  went  singing  on  as  ever. 

"If  we  only  had  a  jug  of  spirits  along,"  laughed 
Dickerson,  breaking  in  upon  his  companion's  reverie. 

"  What  for  ?"  asked  Wetzel,  regarding  him  coldly. 

"  Why,  we  should  enjoy  the  whole  thing  more," 
said  Dickerson. 

"  Enjoy !"  repeated  Wetzel,  harshly,  "  did  you  say 
enjoy!  How  can  you  think  of  such  a  word  as 
enjoy!  Does  the  Lord  enjoy  the  smiting  of  his 
base  and  perverted  children?  Did  he  enjoy  the 
sending  forth  of  the  chijdren  of  Israel  ? — the  killing 
of  Pharaoh  and  his  host?  What  pleasure  is  there 
in  avenging  our  wrongs?     It  is  our  duty." 

"  If  you  don't  take  any  pleasure  in  all  this,  you'd 
better  be  by  yourself,"  said  Dickerson,  offended  at 
the  dictatorial  tone  of  his  companion. 

"  I  did  not  ask  you  to  come,"  returned  Wetzel. 

"  Maybe  you'll  ask  me  to  go  ?" 

"  You  can  go  or  stay ;  I  regulate  no  man's  actions. 


212  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

This  is  not  my  land ;  it  is  as  much  j^ours  as  mine. 
You  are  not  my  enemy,  and  I  would  like  to  be  your 
friend.     But  I  am  not  here  for  pleasure." 

"  I  can't  understand  you,  Wetzel,"  said  Dickerson, 
laughing  lightly  and  seating  himself  upon  the 
ground  again. 

"  Now,  every  one  knows,  Wetzel,"  went  on  Dicker- 
son,  crumbling  a  flake  of  loose  earth  between  his 
fingers,  "that  you'd  grind  the  Injuns  into  Injun- 
meal,  as  fine  as  this  mud  in  my  hand.  And  why 
would  you  do  this?  Simply  because  it  pleases  you 
to  do  it.  Nobody  interferes  with  you  here;  you 
do  just  as  it  pleases  you  to  do,  and  if  you  do 
what  it  pleases  you  to  do,  don't  you  call  that 
pleasure?  I  do.  You  do  it  for  fun,  and  fun  you 
have.  We  all  say  of  nights,  when  we  gather  'round 
a  fire,  or  smoke  in  the  moonlight, '  I  wonder  where 
Wetzel  is?  Up  to  some  fun,  be  sure  o'  that.'  That's 
what  we  say,  Wetzel;  and  among  so  many  of  us 
somebody  is  sure  to  be  right.  The  only  trouble 
about  it  is,  that  you  make  too  much  of  a  secret  of  it. 
Why  can't  you  always  have  one  of  us  along  with 
you?  We  hate  the  red  cusses  as  much  as  you  do, 
and  we'd  like  a  little  o'  the  fun  too.  For  you've 
had  more  time  than  we've  had,  and  you've  studied 
up  the  thing  more,  and  can  tell  just  where  the  fun 
comes  in  and  when  it  is  coming.     But  no,  you  take 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID,  213 

it  all  quietly,  and  don't  act  cheerful  and  share  your 
fun  with  your  friends.  You're  not  doing  right, 
Wetzel ;  that's  what  it  is, — you  are  not  doing  right 
by  your  friends.  So  none  of  us  can  understand  you.'' 

A  pained  expression  shot  across  the  face  of  the 
scout.     Did  anybody  understand  him  ? 

But  the  man  at  his  side  was  only  as  the  others. 
Wetzel  said  a  few  words  to  him  kindly  and  to  prove 
that  there  was  no  harshness  in  his  thought. 

Dickerson  did  not  answer,  but  lay  at  full  length 
contemplating  the  other's  face,  so  set  and  cold,  as  he 
waited  in  the  tall  grass,  the  sun  glinting  down  and 
making  his  long  hair  shine  like  great  shafts  of 
ebony. 

And  thus  they  waited  on,  silent  and  almost  mo- 
tionless, as  the  hours  went  by,  and  there  was  no  ap- 
proaching step  near  them.  They  were  almost  like 
statues,  their  guns  in  their  hands,  their  eyes  peering 
through  the  grass,  their  ears  on  the  alert  for  the 
slightest  indications  of  the  approach  of  a  moccasin. 

They  were  so  silent  and  motionless,  that  a  shy- 
eyed  deer  came  and  looked  at  them,  cropped  a  few 
spears  of  grass  near  by,  and  then  leisurely  trotted 
off  to  join  its  companions,  possibly  to  report  the 
discovery  of  a  new  species  of  plant  shaped  like  men 
with  guns,  but  which  did  not  possess  even  vegetable 
motion. 


214  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

Shortly  before  sundown,  and  wlien  they  least 
expected  it,  a  dull  thud  smote  their  ears. 

"Hist!"  said  Wetzel,  breaking  the  silence,  "a 
chief  on  horseback,  coming  at  full  speed.  Up  with 
you,  and  hail  him." 

They  were  on  their  feet,  and  called  to  the  hurry- 
ing red-skin. 

But,  owing  to  the  clatter  of  the  horse's  feet,  he  may 
not  have  heard  them.  At  any  rate,  he  did  not  heed 
them,  but  galloped  on,  sweeping  by  them  with  a 
grand  flourish,  never  vouchsafing  to  cast  his  eyes  in 
their  direction. 

"  He  will  accept  of  no  quarter,"  said  Wetzel ;  "  he 
will  not  heed  us." 

"  Then  he  is  an  enemy,"  cried  Dickerson. 

They  raised  their  rifles;  there  were  a  couple  of 
sharp  crackles  in  the  bright  air,  a  bird  or  two  flew 
up,  a  couple  of  deer  whizzed  by,  the  flying  horse  of 
the  Indian  threw  up  its  head. 

But  the  Indian  did  not  fall  from  his  saddle,  going 
on  as  unconcerned  as  ever. 

"How  could  both  of  us  miss  him?"  grumbled 
Dickerson. 

They  could  see  the  camp  of  the  Indians,  and  they 
thought  there  was  a  sort  of  alarm  there.  The 
escaped  Indian  was  riding  on  rapidly,  and  from  the 
camp  issued  mounted  savages,  all  directing  their 
course  towards  their  attacked  brother. 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  215 

"  Do  3'ou  see  that  ?"  asked  Dickerson. 

"  It  is  time  for  us  to  go,"  returned  Wetzel. 

For  as  the  alarm  would  very  soon  be  spread 
among  the  vast  number  of  assembled  red-skins 
that  one  of  their  number  had  been  waylaid  and 
jfired  upon,  the  white  men  knew  of  the  scurrying  of 
the  country  after  the  shooters,  and  began  an  imme- 
diate retreat. 

Wetzel's  friends  had  known  of  his  going  to  watch 
for  the  Indians  from  around  Fort  Harmar,  and  they 
awaited  him  and  his  companion  in  camp,  and 
eagerly  clustered  about  the  two. 

"  And  what  luck,  what  luck  ?"  they  questioned. 

"  Luck !''  repeated  Wetzel. 

"How  many  Injun's  scalps?"  was  the  question. 
"That's  luck,  isn't  it?" 

"  Then  we  had  bad  luck,  cursed  luck,"  he  replied. 

"  This  is  the  first  time  you  ever  was  played  false 
by  an  Injun,"  said  the  man  who  held  him  in  talk. 
"I  always  say  that  the  Injuns  ain't  more  to  be 
depended  on  in  death  than  in  life.  They  do  all 
they  can  to  prevent  a  white  man  doing  of  his  duty, 
and  then  pretend  they  want  peace,  and  are  willing 
to  do  anything  to  have  it.  What  do  they  waste 
good  powder  and  balls  of  the  white  man  for,  eh  ?" 

"Yes,  we  shot  at  a  fellow  on  horseback,  but  he 
rode  on  scratching  his  back  as  if  he  had  been  stung 
by  a  yellow-jacket,"  said  Dickerson,  gloomily. 


216  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

But  that  night  into  the  camp  came  a  jaded  horse 
with  a  dead  Indian  on  its  back.  He  had  been  shot 
through  the  hips,  and  had  bled  to  death  on  his 
horse's  back. 

It  was  soon  rumored  that  Wetzel  was  the  slayer. 
Fort  Harmar  was  outraged. 

"  And  this  is  how  my  efforts  at  peace  are  regard- 
ed," said  General  Harmar.  "  The  murderer  shall  be 
taken,  and  an  example  be  made  of  him." 

Accordingly,  Captain  Kingsbury  and  a  picked 
company  of  men  were  directed  to  proceed  to  the 
Mingo  Bottom,  and  take  Wetzel  alive  or  dead, — the 
precaution  of  a  large  number  of  troops  detailed 
being  necessary  from  the  desperate  character  the 
scout  seemed  to  have  acquired. 

But  it  was  a  useless  and  wholly  impotent  order 
General  Harmar  had  given. 

"  A  company  of  mere  men  could  as  easily  have 
drawn  Beelzebub  out  of  the  bottomless  pit,  as  take 
Lewis  Wetzel  from  the  Mingo  Bottom  settlement," 
says  the  chronicle  of  the  times. 

On  the  very  day  that  Captain  Kingsbury  and  his 
men  arrived  at  the  Bottom,  there  was  a  shooting- 
match  there,  and  Lewis  Wetzel  had  been  prevailed 
upon  to  show  his  dexterity  with  the  rifle. 

A  heap  of  slaughtered  pigeons  beside  him  attested 
that  he  had  delighted  his  entertainers  to  the  best  of 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  217 

his  ability;  and  he  was  on  the  point  of  reloading 
his  piece  when  Captain  Kingsbury  was  seen  coming 
up  the  river. 

His  object  was  at  once  conjectured. 

Without  acquainting  Wetzel  of  the  fact,  for  his 
back  was  towards  the  river,  and  he  was  quietly 
firing,  it  was  resolved  to  ambush  the  captain's 
barge,  and  kill  him  and  all  his  company. 

"What  else  can  be  done?"  they  said,  in  extenua- 
tion, "for  Wetzel  shall  not  be  taken." 

But,  happily,  Captain  McMahan  was  present,  and 
he  went  to  Wetzel  and  told  him  the  state  of  affairs, 
and  prevailed  on  him  to  use  his  influence  in  per- 
suading his  admirers  to  suspend  the  attack,  while 
he  (McMahan)  would  go  down  to  the  shore  and 
await  Kingsbury,  and,  perhaps,  by  representing 
matters  in  their  proper  light,  induce  him  to  return 
without  landing. 

"  I  am,  then,  to  persuade  my  friends  by  this  argu- 
ment that  I  look  upon  myself  as  a  man  guilty  of 
murder  ?"  said  Wetzel,  smiling. 

"  You  alone  can  prevent  an  indiscriminate  slaugh- 
ter of  innocent  men  who  only  come  here  by  command 
of  a  superior  officer,"  was  the  reply  of  McMahan. 

"At  least  I  may  tell  them  that  it  is  for  their  own 

good  not  to  attack  those  who  are  coming  for  me?" 

asked  Wetzel. 
19 


218  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"You  can  say  whatever  you  please;  but  you 
know  the  consequences  to  your  friends  if  these  men 
are  attacked." 

Wetzel  immediately  went  to  his  friends  and 
argued  with  them,  almost  failing  at  times  to  con- 
vince them  that  it  was  fool-hardiness  that  prompted 
their  attack  on  the  men  sent  from  the  fort  to  arrest 
him,  and  that  such  an  attack  would  be  the  worse 
for  their  interest  as  well  as  his  own.  At  length  he 
persuaded  them  that  it  was  not  the  best  way  for  them 
to  assisl  him. 

"Well,  we'll  promise  to  suspend  operations — for 
the  present,"  said  one  admirer. 

"  But  you  mustn't  keep  us  too  long  waiting,"  said 
another. 

With  this  reluctant  proviso,  Wetzel  came  to 
McMahan. 

"  I  have  them  in  check  for  the  present,"  he  said, 
but  I  cannot  tell  how  long  they  will  obey  my  wishes. 
Do  all  you  can  to  prevent  them  from  landing,  and  I 
will  stay  here  and  endeavor  to  turn  the  matter  into 
a  burlesque,  and  the  troops  may  receive  only 
laughter,  which  will  not  prove  fatal  to  any  of 
them." 

"  I  shall  report  this  to  your  favor,"  said  McMahan. 

"  I  want  no  report,  favorable  or  unfavorable  to  me, 
to  go  to  General  liar  mar,"  returned  Wetzel.    "  I  do 


AN  IXDIAN  WAYLAID.  219 

what  I  am  doing  to  save  my  friends.  You  speak  as 
though  you,  too,  accused  me  of  crime." 

'' Did  you  not  kill  the  Indian?" 

"  Whether  I  did  or  not,  that  is  not  a  crime — not  a 
murder.  But  go !  you  do  not  understand — no  one 
does.  Go !  hurry  to  your  friends ;  and  I  will  stay 
with  mine." 

Hurriedly  mounting  his  horse,  McMahan  thun- 
dered down  the  embankment  to  the  river. 

Kingsbury  and  his  men  were  slowl}^  toiling  up 
the  river,  the  roots  of  trees  and  the  debris  there 
making  the  journey  peculiarly  troublesome.  The 
men  on  board  were  grumbling,  and  complaining 
that  all  this  trouble  should  have  been  taken  merely 
for  the  sake  of  capturing  one  simple  frontierman. 

"  If  this  is  army  discipline,"  said  a  regular  at  the 
bow,  "  it's  the  queerest  I  ever  heard  of.  A  big  party 
of  men  like  us  to  go  and  capture  a  single  man  that 
never  makes  a  pretense  of  hiding  himself.  You 
might  suppose  he'd  set  the  world  on  fire,  and  the  Old 
Boy  had  sent  for  him  to  punish  him  for  doing 
things  without  authority  from  down  below.  Instead 
of  setting  the  world  on  fire,  here  he  is  a  simple, 
stupid  enough  sort  of  fellow,  who  would  rather  go 
alone  with  his  gun,  than  join  us  and  go  in  a  squad. 
Pretty  discipline  that  takes  a  crowd  to  capture  one 
single,  simple  frontierman." 


220  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

"A  murderer,"  said  Captain  Kingsbury,  who 
overheard  the  complaint. 

"  It  will  take  more  than  General  Harmar  to  prove 
to  the  settlers  so  much  as  that,"  answered  a  man. 

"  Well,  the  general's  orders  have  got  to  be  obeyed," 
said  the  captain,  "  and  I  will  not  leave  the  Bottom 
till  I  have  Lewis  Wetzel." 

"Then  you'll  never  leave  it,"  growled  a  man, 
"and  the  prospects  are  that  we  shall  not,  either. 
Does  that  look  hopeful  ?'^ 

He  pointed  over  to  the  shore  towards  which  they 
were  pulling. 

McMahan  had  dismounted,  and  stood  anxiously 
gesticulating  to  those  on  board.  Behind  and  above 
him  was  a  solid  group  of  determined  men  restlessly 
chafing  under  the  promise  they  had  made  Wetzel 
that  they  would  not  stir  from  where  they  were,  nor 
approach  the  water  any  closer  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour.  This  was  as  much  as  he  could  get  them  to 
promise.  He  had  tried  to  turn  the  affair  into  a 
joke,  and  had  failed.  It  might  seem  mightily 
amusing  to  have  a  few  militia  men  to  come  to  the 
Bottom  to  tell  the  settlers  what  their  duty  was. 
But  it  was  an  insult  to  their  manhood  to  be  told 
that  they  were  expected  to  stand  by  quietly  and 
consent  to  see  one  of  their  number  taken,  merely 
for  having  shot  down  an  Indian,  who  would  have 


AN  INDIAN  WA  YLAID.  221 

shot  him  down  without  scruple  if  he  had  got  the 
first  chance.  General  Harmar  was  not  the  com- 
mander-in-chief of  the  settlers,  let  him  remember 
that. 

Had  General  Harmar  come  in  person  just  then, 
all  the  respect  due  to  military  authority  might  have 
been  overthrown  by  the  indignation  which  spoke 
from  every  face.  General  Harmar  was  nothing 
more  than  a  man,  and  were  they  not  all  men  also? 
And  what  did  they  owe  General  Harmar  that  he 
should  think  he  had  the  authority  to  command, 
respect  of  his  orders?  He  had  done  more  harm 
than  good,  anyhow — had  made  the  Indians  more 
impertinent  than  ever,  if  that  were  possible;  and 
now  he  said  that  that  same  impertinence  must  be 
respected  besides  all  the  old  flagrant  behavior  of 
the  Indians.     Murmurs  were  heard  on  every  side. 

"  I  can't  stand  in  one  position  all  day,  even  to 
please  Wetzel,"  said  a  man,  nervously  handling  the 
trigger  of  his  gun. 

"And  who  is  Wetzel,  any  more  than  Harmar,  to 
make  us  obey  him  ?"  asked  another. 

They  lost  sight  of  everything  but  the  sense  of  the 
slight  put  upon  themselves. 

''  But  be  quiet !  be  quiet !"  said  an  older  man,  and 
possibly  a  cooler  one,  "he  only  bargained  for  min- 
utes.    It  takes  sixty  o'  that  sort  to  make  an  hour. 


222  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Just  you  wait  till  our  minutes  are  up!  Then  if 
them  men  in  that  boat  won't  have  a  pretty  long 
hour,  just  tell  me  my  name  ought  to  be  Ananias, 
and  I  won't  tell  you  you  lie.  Be  quiet !  be  quiet  1 
There's  plenty  more  minutes  in  the  world,  and  some 
other  men  shall  think  it's  better  to  stand  in  one 
position  all  their  life  than  to  change  too  often — as 
them  men  in  that  boat  '11  surely  say  afore  I'm 
through  with  'em.  Be  quiet!  be  quiet! — and  do 
your  duty  by  yourselves." 

"Be  quiet!  be  quiet!"  echoed  another  man,  and 
the  complaints  were  hushed  for  the  time  being. 

Every  moment's  enforced  quiet,  however,  made 
the  men  more  outraged  at  the  slight  put  upon  their 
intelligence. 

"Just  as  if  General  Harmar  knew  more  about 
the  Indians  than  we  do,"  they  argued. 

Captain  Kingsbury  was  now  near  the  bank  of  the 
river. 

"  Shall  we  let  them  land  after  all  ?"  asked  a  settler. 

"  Where  is  Wetzel  ?"  asked  the  one  addressed, 
cautiously  looking  around. 

"  Here !"  said  Wetzel,  who  heard  it  all,  and  now 
came  forward. 

The  men  remained  silent. 

Captain  Kingsbury  was  now  within  speaking 
distance  of  the  shore.  The  settlers  could  scarcely 
restrain  themselves,  and  scowled  at  Wetzel. 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  223 

"A  pretty  state  of  affairs,"  said  one,  to  hang  a 
man  for  shooting  an  Indian  that  kills  his  white 
man  every  day. 

"  Will  they  hang  Wetzel?" 

"That's  the  punishment  for  murder — and  that's 
what  they  accuse  him  of." 

"They'll  never  hang  a  settler  for  a  cut-throat 
Indian  as  long  as  I'm  around." 

"Nor  while  I  am." 

".Was  Wetzel's  father  nothing?  Why  didn't  they 
hang  the  Indians  that  murdered  him  ?" 

Wetzel  saw  that  his  authority  was  w^eakening  with 
every  word  they  spoke,  and  he  looked  anxiously 
towards  the  slowly  advancing  militia. 

He  never  for  a  moment  harbored  the  intention  of 
giving  himself  up  as  a  murderer,  but  he  ivould 
protect  his  friends. 

Major  McMahan,  down  on  the  river's  bank,  w^as  as 
nervous  as  he  over  the  possible  result  of  this  expedi- 
tion. He  threw  up  his  arms  when  the  boat  was  yet 
a  good  way  off,  and  signaled  Captain  Kingsbury 
not  to  come  any  nearer. 

"  On  !"  said  Kingsbury,  seeing  the  men  ship  their 
oars. 

"  But  the  major  signals  us  to  stop,"  said  a  man. 

"  On  !"  commanded  Captain  Kingsbury.  "  Major 
McMahan  is  not  commanding  this  boat."     . 


224  J^WIS  WETZEL. 

The  oars  splashed  into  the  water  again,  and 
sparkled  in  the  light  like  silver.  The  boat  grated 
on  the  shore. 

"  Halt !"  rang  out  the  voice  of  Major  McMahan.  • 

Those  on  the  shore  saw  the  commander  of  the 
boat  pause  for  the  first  time  when  that  word  rang 
out  with  doubtful  meaning. 

The  men  on  the  boat  had  their  guns  in  their 
hands,  looking  up  to  that  grim,  silent  company  of 
settlers  high  on  the  shore,  not  stirring  so  much  as  a 
foot  now,  nor  whispering  a  word,  but  each  waiting 
anxiously  until  the  few  minutes  elapsed  wdiich 
should  absolve  them  from  their  promise  to  the  man 
these  others  had  come  to  take  against  the  principles 
of  the  settlers'  warfare.  The  settlers  on  their  part 
could  see  the  anxious  looks  of  Major  McMahan  as 
he  directed  Captain  Kingsbury's  eyes  inland. 

They  could  see  that  a  confab  was  under  way. 

For  the  major  was  informing  Captain  Kingsbury 
of  the  force  and  fury  of  the  people,  and  assured  him, 
that  did  he  attempt  to  seize  Wetzel,  he  would  have 
all  the  settlers  in  all  parts  of  the  country  upon  him, 
and  that  then  nothing  could  save  him  and  his  troops 
from  massacre. 

"But  my  orders?"  remonstrated  the  captain. 

"Orders  or  no  orders,  sir,"  said  McMahan,  "you 
either  torn  back,  or  take  the  consequences." 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  225 

"  Am  I  and  these  men  under  me  to  be  thwarted 
by  one  man  ?" 

"  By  a  thousand  men,  you  mean.  Lewis  Wetzel 
himself  has  little  power  with  the  men  who  would 
avenge  him.  They  love  the  principle  more  than 
the}^  do  the  man." 

The  captain  turned  his  eyes  inland ;  he  could  see 
the  crowds  of  men  collected  closely  together  and 
glaring  out  towards  him,  repressed  excitement 
plainly  discernible  in  their  enforced  attention. 

One  man  stood  apart,  leaning  on  his  rifle,  his 
eyes  directed  with  the  others  in  the  direction  of  the 
would-be  captors. 

"  That  is  your  man,"  said  Major  McMahan,  point- 
ing out  the  solitary  figure. 

"Am  I  to  be  so  near  him,  and  yet  not  take  him?" 
frowned  Captain  Kingsbury,  looking  towards  the 
man  leaning  on  his  rifle. 

"  Can  you  take  him  with  such  odds  as  I  have 
mentioned ?^^  asked  McMahan.  "  And  hurry !  hurry  I 
He  has  forced  the  men  to  respect  your  authority — 
inasmuch  as  they  will  not  attack  you  unless  you 
attack  him.  His  authority  is  at  an  end,  and  doubt- 
less in  a  few  minutes  it  will  be  too  late.  Hurry! 
hurry !" 

There  was  but  one  thing  to  do;  that  Captain 
Kingsbury  conceded. 


226  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Fearing  for  the  safety  of  the  men  under  him,  he 
immediately  gave  orders  to  turn  about,  and  the  next 
minute  the  barge  floated  on,  eagerly  helped  along 
by  every  man  inside  who  had  seen  the  hills  and  the 
men  there. 

There  was  a  frantic  huzza  from  the  crowd  of 
settlers.  The  fifteen  minutes'  grace  were  up.  They 
ran  pell-mell  down  to  the  river  side,  some  going 
into  the  water  and  ofiering  to  swim  after  the  barge; 
others  gathered  handsful  of  river  mud  with  which 
they  bespattered  the  receding  troops';  knd  others 
again  dug  bits  of  rock  with  their  hands  and  hurled 
them  after  the  barge.  They  danced  on  the  shore, 
reviling  Captain  Kingsbury  for  a  coward  and  a  pol- 
troon, well  knowing  that  such  was  not  the  case,  but 
angered  now  that  Major  McMahan  had  forced  them 
into  inactivity. 

"  Where  is  McMahan  ?"  some  one  cried. 

"  Where  is  McMahan  ?"  cried  all. 

But  the  major  had  known  what  was  coming,  and 
was  not  in  view. 

In  the  midst  of  the  excitement  a  man  cried  out : 

"And  it  was  not  Wetzel's  bullet  that  killed  the 
Indian ;  and  Wetzel  knew  it,  and  would  not  lay  the 
blame  on  me.  You  all  know  me,  Veach  Dickerson. 
I  swear  that  we  both  aimed  at  the  Indian  ;  but  my 
bullet  struck  him.    I  swear  this,  and  I  swear  that 


AN  INDIAN  WAYLAID.  227 

Wetzel  knows  it.  But  who  will  believe  it?  Wetzel 
will  not  say  he  missed  fire,  and  who  will  believe  his 
aim  was  ever  at  fault  ?" 

Whether  this  story  of  Dickerson  is  true  or  not, 
and  whether  he  did  not  thus  try  to  draw  the  blame 
from  the  scout,  knowing  his  prominence,  and  feeling 
assured  that  this  was  not  to  be  the  last  they  should 
hear  about  the  dead  Indian,  is  not  in  the  province 
of  the  present  narrator  to  say. 

But  it  was  sufficient  for  the  time  to  turn  the  crowd 
from  the  protection  of  the  principle  to  the  adoration 
and  protection  of  the  man.  They  now  declared  that 
they  were  glad  they  had  obeyed  the  scout,  and  let 
Captain  Kingsbury  off;  and  that  were  the  captain 
and  his  troops  here  now  they  would  be  treated  as 
lambs,  which,  considering  that  mutton  is  frequently 
slain  in  the  shape  of  lamb,  is  but  equivocal. 

Then  they  turned  on  Dickerson. 

"Why  didn't  you  own  up,  then?"  they  asked, 
"  and  not  let  an  .innocent  man  take  the  blame?" 

"  If  Wetzel  wanted  me  to  be'  accused  wouldn't  he 
have  denied  the  killing?"  argued  Dickerson. 

Thus  was  the  authority  of  the  scout  with  these 
men,  that  they  w^illingly  believed  any  tale  which 
exalted  him  and  proved  that  while  they  obeyed  a 
certain  indefinable  something  about  him,  that  some- 
thing was  an  innate  and  simple  nobility  that  never 
fails  of  partisans  in  a  simple  and  rude  community. 


228  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Well  might  Captain  Kingsbur}^,  in  the  now  far-off 
bayge,  feel  that  he  had  cause  to  be  thankful  that  he 
had  taken  Major  McMahan's  prudent  advice  when 
he  looked  and  saw  that  river  bank  alive  with  wild 
and  audacious  men. 

The  troops  were  gathered  about  him,  looking 
back  with  him. 

"  There's  a  solitary  figure,  behind  all  the  rest,  and 
it  has  not  moved  since  I've  looked  at  it,"  said  a  man. 

Captain  Kingsbury  turned  his  eyes  in  the  direc- 
tion indicated,  and  saw,  alone  and  still  leaning  on 
his  gun,  the  man  he  had  come  to  arrest,  but  who  had 
escaped  him. 

Further  and  further  floated  the  barge,  and  the 
men  on  the  shore  were  dispersing  one  way  and 
another,  and  a  bend  in  the  river  hid  them  entirely 
from  view. 

But  still  those  on  the  barge  could  see  that  solitary 
figure  looking  in  their  direction,  motionless  as  a 
statue,  as  though  he  was  nothing  in  common  with 
those  around  him,  but  in  their  midst  was  an  alien 
to  their  inmost  feelings  while  he  was  the  motive 
power  of  their  principles. 


CAPTURE  AND  ESCAPE.  229 


CHAPTER  XL 

CAPTURE   AND   ESCAPE. 

n^HE   settlers  by   this    retreating   movement    of 

Captain  Kingsbury  from  the  object  of  his  quest 

so  easily  decided,  considered   the   affair  as  finally 

adjusted.     Many  of  them   came  to  the   conclusion 

that  the  whole   proceeding  was  only  instituted  to 

scare  them  into  quiescence,  so  that  no  more  Indians 

might  fall,  pending  the  establishment  of  a  code  of 

peace.     But,  one  and  all,  they  determined  that  the 

general  had  seen  the  folly  of  his  orders,  and  had 

come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  had  business  more 

in  his  line  than  attempting  to  impeach  the  good 

conduct  of  one  of  their  number  for  the  simple 

every-day  occurrence  of  making  wild  game  of  a 

villainous  Indian. 

"Boys,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,"  said  a  strapping 

fellow,  jambing  his  hat  over  his  eyes,  and  mounting 

upon  a  stump.    "  Boys,  I'll  tell  you  how  it  is,  Harmar 

h.e's   ashamed    of   hisself — that's    how  it  is;    he's 

doggoned  ashamed  of  hisself     He's  seen  the  error 

of  his  ways  and  turned  over  a   new  leaf     Why 
20 


230  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

what's  the  good  o'  Harmar  talkin'  ?  If  orders  had 
come  for  him  to  fight  the  red-devils  'stead  o'  pro- 
tectin'  'em,  wouldn't  he  done  it  as  soon  one  way  as 
t'other?  I  haven't  no  patience  in  a  man  like 
Harmar." 

**'  But  orders  is  orders,"  interrupted  a  friend. 

"Orders!  I'd  just  like  to  see  the  orders  that'd 
make  me  go  and  hold  a  Injun  chief  up  to  my 
buzzom  and  call  him  *  dearie/  and  chuck  him 
under  the  chin." 

"Gin'ral  Harmar  didn't  hold  no  Injun  chief  to  his 
buzzom  and  chuck  him  under  the  chin,  as  I  ever 
heered  tell  on,"  said  a  literal  man. 

"  Who  said  he  did  ?"  asked  the  orator  angrily. 
"  What  I  said  was  that  I  wouldn't  do  it,  orders  or  no 
orders." 

"  Well,  I'd  just  like  to  give  a  Injun  chief  a  good 
tight  squeeze  myself,"  said  another. 

"  Shut  up,  boys !"  said  the  orator,  "  and  hear  me 
out." 

"  We'd  ruther  hear  you  in ;  you're  out  now — out 
o'  your  reckonin'." 

"  What  I  mean,  boys,  is  that  Harmar  wants  to 
skcer  us;  and  we  don't  skeer.  He's  so  ashamed  o' 
hisself  that  he'll  take  Wetzel's  part  the  very  fust 
time  he  gets  into  any  trouble.  Just  mark  my  words 
if  that  ain't  so." 


CAPTURE  AND  ESCAPE,  '  231 

"Yes,"  they  all  assented,  "the  general  was 
ashamed  of  himself  for  tndng  to  intimidate  a  lot 
of  peaceable  men  simply  because  a  murderous 
Indian  had  gone  the  way  of  all  Indian  flesh,  and 
could  not  blame  any  disease  for  the  taking  off. 
Yes,  surely.  General  Harmar  meant  to  show  a 
different  line  of  conduct  in  the  future." 

But  in  this  the  settlers  erred ;  the  affair  was  by  no 
means  at  an  end,  and,  from  what  they  considered 
such  a  trifle  to  make  so  much  bother  about,  the 
whole  principle  of  the  scout  system  was  destined  to 
become  involved,  and  a  trial  of  strength  instituted 
as  to  which  was  the  ruling  power — the  military 
determined  to  establish  peace  between  the  white 
and  red  men,  or  the  settlers,  equally  determined 
from  long  experience,  that  such  a  peace  was  falla- 
cious just  so  long  as  the  Indians  claimed  the  land 
and  stock  which  the  white  man  had  cultivated  by 
strenuous  exertion,  and  with  untold  difhcult}^ 

For  General  Harmar,  having  had  familiar  ac- 
quaintance with  the  insubordination  of  the  frontier, 
and  having  been  a  frequent  witness  of  the  small 
respect  entertained  for  military  discipline,  decided 
to  make  a  test  case  of  this  matter;  and  after  the 
return  of  Captain  Kingsbury,  and  his  report  of  the 
reception  of  the  general's  orders,  to  press  those 
orders   to   the  fullest,  in    the    settlement    of   this 


232  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

flagrant  breach,  and  to  prove  to  the  utmost  the  rela- 
tive strengths  of  the  settlers  and  the  military. 

The  military,  however,  demurred,  and  some  of 
them  flatly  refused  to  obey  any  orders  that  made 
them  the  enemies  of  the  settlers,  their  old  friends. 
Others,  again,  openly  deserted,  and  went  over  to  the 
other  side,  declaring  that  the  general  usurped  his 
authority,  and  that  his  better  mode  would  be  to 
establish  peace,  now  that  the  frontiermen  admired 
him  somewhat  for  his  respect  for  their  principles. 
But  those  who  knew  General  Harmar  best,  knew 
that  this  could  not  be;  that  no  general  of  the  army 
would  brook  such  insolence  from  men  wdio  rebelled 
against  established  authority. 

"  This  man  Wetzel  shall  be  my  prisoner,"  he  said, 
"  if  it  takes  my  life  and  the  life  of  my  army  to  ac- 
complish the  capture." 

Therefore  orders  were  issued  that  a  new  expedi- 
tion was  to  be  forthwith  undertaken  for  the  appre- 
hension and  detention  of  the  white  man  who  had 
shot  the  Indian  near  Fort  Harmar. 

As  Wetzel,  filled  with  his  old  unrest,  was  never 
very  long  stationary  in  any  one  place,  but  ranged  at 
will  along  the  river  from  Fort  Pitt  to  the  falls  of  the 
Ohio,  and  was  always  a  welcome  guest  and  perfectly 
at  home  wherever  ho  chose  to  go,  a  little  while  after 
the  frustrated  attempt  to  seize  him  by  Captain 
Kingsbury,  he  made  one  of  his  usual  excursions. 


CAPTURE  AND  ESCAPE.  233 

He  got  into  his  canoe  with  the  intention  of  pro- 
ceeding down  the  Ohio  to  Kentucky. 

But  having  a  friend  named  Carr  who  had  lately 
settled  on  the  island  near  Fort  Harmar.  he  deter- 
mined to  pay  this  friend  a  visit,  and  here  he  stopped, 
with  a  view  of  remaining  over  night. ' 

But  by  some  means,  which  were  never  explained, 
General  Harmar  was  advised  of  his  presence  on  the 
island,  a  fugitive  from  justice  coming  directly  into 
the  teeth  of  the  law  wdthout  a  particle  of  fear.  It 
was  too  much  for  the  commander.  A  guard  was 
selected,  and  with  much  difficulty,  for  they  expected 
a  warm  reception ;  besides,  they  may  have  been  a 
little  in  sympathy  with  Wetzel,  and  felt  the  shame 
of  a  party  of  well-cared-for  men  surrounding  and 
capturing  another  man  who,  without  home  or 
means,  was  simply  carrying  out  a  line  of  war  which 
had  hitherto  been  regarded  as  perfectly  legitimate, 
and  had  been  instituted  from  stern  necessity  by  the 
men  who  first  came  to  the  wilds  in  advance  of  their 
more  timid  brethren,  who  came  after  danger  was 
over  to  prove  to  those  who  had  come  in  advance 
that  their  mode  of  procedure  had  been  entirely 
WTong,  and  that  it  must  be  upset  and  begun  all  over 
again. 

However,  the  guard  was  sent  across  the  island  in 
the  night  time,  and  was  guided  to  Carr's  house. 


234  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

It  was  but  a  small,  rude  cabin,  hastily  put  together 
by  the  young  man,  whose  bride,  it  is  said,  used  to 
direct  his  labors,  sitting  on  a  log,  and  telling  him 
how  to  construct  the  house  most  convenient  to  her. 
It  is  also  told,  that  after  he  had  gotten  it  pretty  well 
under  way,  she  discovered  that  the  chimney  was  not 
in  the  place  she  liked  it  best,  so  he  tore  the  entire 
structure  down  and  built  it  all  up  again,  this  time 
taking  care  of  the  chimney.  When  it  was  finished, 
she  said : 

"Now  that  chimney  was  all  right  in  the  first 
place ;  but  I  wanted  to  see  what  kind  of  a  husband 
you  would  make." 

But  this  had  been  some  time  ago,  and  the  house 
the  troops  approached  was  finished,  chimney  and 
all.  All  was  darkness  and  silence  here;  moreover, 
none  of  the  occupants  suspected  any  advent  of 
military  authority.  The  men  outside  waited  a 
moment  in  the  darkness  and  silence,  and  then  the 
captain  in  charge  knocked  on  the  rude  door. 

"  Open,  in  the  name  of  the  law !"  he  cried. 

A  woman  inside  screamed. 

"  We're  killed !  we're  killed !  we're  killed  !"  cried 
the  woman  within,  and  kept  up  a  scream  of  prodig- 
ious intensity. 

The  men  outside  were  awed ;  some  were  for  break- 
ing open  the  door. 


CAPTURE  AND  ESCAPE,  235 

"  She's  upset  the  habby,"  said  a  man. 

"  Silence !"  commanded  the  officer  in  charge. 

Just  at  that  moment  the  startling  scream  sub- 
sided as  suddenly  as  it  had  broken  upon  the  still- 
ness of  the  night. 

"  Babby's  upset  the  mother,"  said  a  man. 

"  Silence !"  commanded  the  officer  in  charge. 

There  was  whispering  inside  for  a  minute,  and 
then  that  was  hushed. 

Again  silence  came. 

"  Open,  in  the  name  of  the  law !"  cried  the  officer 
a  second  time. 

"Injun  law,  or  white  law?"  asked  a  man's  voice 
from  the  inside. 

Clearly  a  suspicion  existed  inside  as  to  who  the 
visitors  were,  and  time  was  wanted. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  asked  the  voice  from  within 
again. 

"Friends  to  friends  of  law  and  order,"  was  the 
reply. 

There  was  a  fumbling  inside,  and  entreaties  in  a 
woman's  voice  and  assurances  in  a  man's. 

Then  the  door  was  opened  by  Carr  himself,  with  a 
lantern  in  one  hand  and  a  rifle  in  the  other. 

He  was  immediately  disarmed  and  held  by  the 
regulars. 

"  Is  this  friendly  violence?"  he  asked  indignantly, 


236  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

while  Lis  wife  wept  on  his  breast.  "You  come  to 
my  house  in  the  night  like  a  party  of  marauders; 
you  demand  admittance  to  my  house  without  telling 
me  who  you  are;  you  disarm  me  when  I  would  pro- 
tect myself  from  enemies  who  could  not  come  more 
deceitfully  than  you  do ;  you  hold  me  a  prisoner 
without  saying  of  what  I  am  accused.  Keep  where 
you  are,  wife !"  turning  to  her ;  "  if  these  men  so 
much  as  lay  a  finger  on  you,  run  to  the  stove  and 
throw  a  live  coal  on  the  powder  barrel." 

She  stood  from  him,  but  not  a  man  laid  a  finger 
upon  her,  and  she  smiled  as  she  saw  them  give  her 
a  wide  berth,  for  the  stove  was  beside  her. 

"  We  are  after  our  prisoner,"  was  the  explanation 
offered  for  the  imposed  indignity,  "  and  we  must 
not  be  put  to  more  trouble  than  is  necessary  in  our 
quest." 

"  There  are  none  of  your  prisoners  here,"  returned 
Carr  in  a  loud  voice. 

"  Lewis  Wetzel  is  here,"  replied  the  captain. 

The  woman,  for  some  time  silent,  now  rent  the 
air  with  cries,  clearly  to  apprize  a  third  party  of  the 
proximity  of  danger. 

"  Is  Wetzel  here  ?"  asked  the  captain,  confused  by 
the  heart-rending  cries. 

"  He  is  not  your  prisoner,  and  never  will  be. 
Treason !  treason  !  treason !"  shouted  Carr,  his  wife's 


CAPTURE  AND  ESCAPE,  237 

voice  ascending  the  gamut  till  she  reached  an  ear- 
piercing  note,  which  she  held  to  tenaciously. 

"  Enter,  men,  and  do  your  duty,"  commanded  the 
officer  hurriedly,  snatching  the  lantern  from  one  of 
the  men  and  leading  the  way. 

Guided  by  the  dim  lantern,  they  found  in  an 
inner  room  the  man  they  sought,  and  who  had  not 
been  wakened  by  all  the  noise  around  him.  Worn 
out  by  fatigue  and  privation,  he  slept,  the  lantern 
light  along  his  face  failing  to  disturb  him,  only 
showing  the  lines  and  weather-marks  there. 

"  Secure  him  !"  whispered  the  captain. 

The  men  actually  bound  him  hand  and  foot  with- 
out awakening  him. 

They  then  shook  him,  and  he  arose  in  bewilder- 
ment, but  soon  understood  the  situation,  and  tried 
to  free  himself  from  his  bonds,  but  unsuccessfully. 

"Cowards!"  he  said.  "A  score  to  one  sleeping 
man !" 

Without  a  word  of  reply,  he  was  hurried  from  the 
house,  the  wife  of  Carr  still  keeping  up  her  vocal 
endeavors,  and  her  husband,  whose  gun  was  carried 
off,  crying  after  the  troops : 

"  The  settlers  shall  know  this  !  The  settlers  shall 
know  this,  and  then  look  out !  Keep  up  a  good 
heart,  Wetzel,  and  don't  let  them  treat  you  ill.  Die 
for  the  principle,  Wetzel,  but  don't  live  at  their 
mercy." 


238  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Wetzel  was  hurried  on  to  a  boat  in  waiting ;  then 
he  was  rowed  over  to  the  guard-house. 

Here  the  jailor  proceeded  to  load  him  with  irons. 
He  protested  strenuously  against  such  treatment. 

"Am  I  a  malefactor,  to  be  thus  ignominiously 
chained  ?"  he  asked  indignantly,  thrusting  the  man 
from  him.  For  to  a  man  like  him  this  treatment 
was  worse  than  death  itself. 

"  You  are  accused  of  murdering  an  Indian,"  was 
thp  reply  vouchsafed  his  protest. 

"Murdering!"  he  repeated  bitterly.  "Do  you 
know  what  you  say? — what  that  word  conveys? 
Then  I  am  to  be  treated  as  a  mere  cut-throat  mur- 
derer?" 

"  You  had  better  ask  the  general,"  said  an  officer 
present,  who  plainly  entered  into  the  feelings  of  the 
scout ;  "  we  are  only  doing  what  we  are  instructed  to 
do,  Wetzel." 

"  Then  take  me  to  General  Harmar." 

"  That  is  impossible,  just  now." 

"  I  can  see  him,  though  ?" 

"  You  can  make  the  request." 

"Then  go  to  him,  and  tell  him  his  brave  men, 
who  protect  murdering  Indians,  have  this  night 
captured  a  sleeping  white  man,  who,  being  now 
awake,  and  destined  to  sleep  no  more  where  military 
authority  protects  the  people,  requests  to  speak  with 
him." 


CAPTURE  ANJ)  ESCAPE.  239 

"  You  cannot  expect  General  Harmar  to  obey  in 
those  words." 

"  They  are  the  only  words  from  me.  I  am  not 
used  to  deceive  in  words." 

One  of  the  men  was  despatched  with  the  message 
to  the  general. 

This  haughty  request  naturally  only  made  Wetzel 
appear  more  rebellious  in  the  eyes  of  the  commander, 
whose  mission  was  to  effect  a  subsidence  of  frontier 
disturbances,  which  added  materially  to  the  cares  of 
an  already  overburdened  country. 

The  general  heard  the  request  of  the  scout,  deliv- 
ered in  the  self-same  words,  without  a  word  of  indig- 
nant reply,  or  even  a  frown. 

For  General  Harmar  did  not  bear  any  ill-will 
towards  the  scout  as  being  Wetzel,  but  towards  the 
scouts  as  a  system  which  must  be  subjugated  to 
more  pacific  authority.  He  regarded  Wetzel  as  a 
very  brave  man,  he  said;  and,  being  no  coward 
himself,  he  could  understand  the  feeling  that 
prompted  the  protesting  request  to  have  an  interview 
with  him. 

He  resolved  to  treat  the  scout  with  consideration. 
He  came  to  the  guard-house  early  the  day  following 
the  capture,  and,  disdaining  a  guard,  went  into  the 
close  place. 

"Good-morning,  General  Harmar,"  said  Wetzel, 


240  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

starting  up  from  a  reverie  he  had  insensibly  fallen 
into.  "  Do  you  see  these  irons  ?  Are  these  by  your 
instructions  ?" 

"  We  could  not  quite  trust  you." 

"  You  see  I  am  your  prisoner  ?" 

"  I  see,  and  I  wish  it  were  a  less  brave  man,"  re- 
plied the  general. 

"  You  know  that  I  shot  at  the  Indian " 

"You  confess  it?" 

"  Of  course.  And  what  is  proposed  for  my  sen- 
tence?" 

"You  know  the  punishment  of  a  crime  like 
yours." 

"  Such  a  crime  never  had  a  punishment  laid  out 
before  this." 

"You  know  the  punishment  of  men  who  kill 
other  men  ?" 

"It  is  to  be  killed  by  yet  other  men,  exactly.  It 
has  always  been  in  my  mind — this  punishment. 
These  Indians  killed  my  father,  and  I  avenge  my 
father's  blood.     Oh,  yes,  I  understand  that." 

"  But  there  is  another  name  given  to  this  careless 
killing  of  men." 

"You  mean  the  actuation  of  it.  I  know  it  has 
been  called  insanity  in  me.  I  have  killed  upwards 
of  a  couple  of  scores  of  Indians,  but  I  cannot  say 
that  I  am  insane.    If  a  snake  stings  you,  do  you  not 


CAPTURE  AND  ESCAPE.  241 

kill  it?  The  men  I  have  killed  were  only  such  as 
would  kill  me,  and  wholiried  to  do  so.  If  I  do  not 
feel  guilty,  I  am  not  guilty.  I  stand  the  chance  of 
being  killed  by  Indians  at  any  time.  They  stand 
the  chance  of  meeting  the  same  fate  at  my  hands. 
We  are  in  so  much  equal.     Well  ?" 

"  There  is  yet  another  name  than  insanity  given 
to  the  man  who  kills  his  fellow-man,  no  matter  what 
the  provocation." 

"  I  do  not  understand  you." 

"  There  is  such  a  thing  as  murder !" 

"  General  Harmar,  you  surely  cannot  mean  that  I 

shall  be  punished  as  a  murderer!"  cried  Wetzel, 

recoiling  at  the  word.     "  No,  no.  General  Harmar, 

that  cannot  be  your  meaning!     lam  no  cowardly 

murderer ;   I  do   not   come  upon   my  foes  for  the 

sake  of  plunder  or  the  pleasure  of  a  vengeance  or 

wrong  committed  against  my  own  rights.     I  do  but 

avenge  my  father  and  his  rights.     I  have  fought, 

and  always  do  fight,  the  red-skins,  with  the  odds 

against  me  of  their  cunning  and  ferociousness.  They 

are  against  me  ;  I  against  them.     No,  no,  you  must 

not  hang  me.     Give  me  up  to  the  Indians  whom  you 

think  I  have  wronged ;  let  them  be  my  executioners 

in  their  own  way,  but  do  not  hang  me.     Hear  me ! 

hear  me !     Do  not  turn  away  from  me.    Give  me  up 

to  these  Indians  here  in  your  own  fort ;  tell  them 
21 


242  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

they  may  do  with  me  what  they  choose ;  place  them 
all  in  a  circle,  with  their  scalping  knives  and  toma- 
hawks in  their  hands,  and  tell  them  how  I  fired  on 
one  of  their  number  near  the  fort,  and  how  I  openly 
confess  to  having  destroyed  a  hundred  of  their 
brethren, — and  then  give  me  a  tomahawk,  and  place 
me  in  the  midst  of  them,  and  let  me  and  the  Indians 
fight  it  out  the  best  way  that  we  can.  But  hang 
me ! — no,  no  1  my  father's  blood  must  never  bring 
his  son  to  the  gallows — my  murdered  father's  blood ! 
It  cried  aloud  to  heaven  for  vengeance,  and  could 
I  hear  it  unmoved  ?  Think  had  it  been  your  father, 
torn  from  you  who  loved  him  so ;  think  if  you  had 
stumbled  across  his  mangled  body,  seen  in  the  light 
of  your  burning  home, — how  would  you  have  felt  ? 
Think  if  you  saw  in  every  Indian  the  one  who  made 
all  this  ruin ;  would  you  have  let  him  go  unpun- 
ished? Would  you  have  seen  the  fairness  in  being 
condemned  to  the  halter  for  doing  as  I  have  done? 
Anything  but  that,  man ;  anything  but  that !" 

To  this  passionate  appeal,  spoken  as  it  was  with 
all  the  energy  of  outraged  sensibility.  General 
Harmar  had  nothing  to  say,  but  turned  aside  for  a 
minute.  Then  he  faced  the  prisoner,  his  face  stern 
once  more. 

"  Lewis  Wetzel,"  he  said,  "  I  own  to  your  wrongs, 
and  the  provocation  of  spirit  which  actuates  you  to 


CAPTURE  AND  ESCAPE.  243 

avenge  them.  Perhaps,  were  I  in  your  place,  my  acts 
would  be  condemned  as  yours  are,  in  the  light  of  rea- 
sonable law.  But  I  am  an  officer  appointed  by  the 
law  by  which  we  must  all  be  held  in  check  or  else  we 
make  a  hell  of  earth.  And  as  that  same  law  does 
riot  in  one  iota  authorize  me  to  make  a  compromise, 
I  cannot  grant  your  request,"  and  the  general  hur- 
ried from  the  room. 

The  two  days  succeeding  this  were  filled  with  tor- 
ture to  Wetzel,  whose  manhood  suffered  from  the 
stigma  proposed  to  be  attached  to  it. 

He  plotted  and  contrived  his  escape. 

He  recognized  the  honor  of  General  Harmar's 
obeying  the  law,  but  he  scorned  the  law  itself  for  a 
false,  bad  thing,  not  taking  cases  like  his  into  con- 
sideration, and  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  his  provoca- 
tion. 

At  the  end  of  two  days  he  was  calmer,  and  seemed 
to  have  made  up  his  mind  to  submit.  He  again 
sent  for  the  general. 

"  I  submit  to  your  interpretation  of  the  law,  gen- 
eral," he  said,  "  but  there  is  a  leniency  w^hich  rests 
with  you  individuall}^" 

'•'  Anything  that  I  can  do,  consistent  with  my 
sense  of  duty,  I  am  willing  to  attempt,"  returned  the 
general. 

"  I  have  never  been  confined,  then,  general,  and 
I  shall  die,  if  I  have  not  room  to  walk  about." 


244  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Strike  off  the  fetters  about  his  feet,"  commanded 
the  general,  and  an  officer  obeyed. 

"  Thank  you,  general,"  said  Wetzel. 

But  his  handcuffs  were  not  removed. 

He  was  allowed  to  w^alk  about  at  the  mouth  of  the 
Muskingum,  but  the  men  were  told  to  keep  a  close 
watch  on  him. 

As  soon  as  they  w^ere  outside  the  fort  gate,  Wetzel 
ran  and  jumped  like  a  child,  apparently  filled  with 
delight  because  of  his  liberty. 

The  men  laughed  at  him,  and  he  seemed  to  appre- 
ciate their  laughing,  and  endeavored  further  to 
amuse  them. 

He  would  start  and  run  a  few  yards,  as  though 
about  to  try  an  escape ;  then  he  would  turn  around 
and  join  the  guards  again. 

The  next  time  he  ran  further,  and  then  stopped. 
In  this  way,  each  time  he  ran  it  w^as  a  little  further 
from  the  guards  before  he  stopped  and  returned.  At 
length,  he  called  forth  all  his  strength,  activity,  and 
cunning,  and  resolved  on  freedom  or  death  at  the 
hands  of  the  soldiers,  but  never  death  on  the  gcaffold 
from  the  common  hangman. 

He  gave  a  sudden  spring  forward,  and  dashed  off 
with  the  speed  of  the  wind  for  his  beloved  sheltering 
woods. 

His  movement  was  so  quick,  so  wholly  unexpected, 


CAPTURE  AND  ESCAPE.  245 

that  his  watchers  were  taken  by  complete  surprise. 
Laughingly  they  expected  every  moment  to  see  him 
turn  around  and  run  towards  them.  Some  of  them 
clapped  their  hands  at  this  child's-play,  so  inconsist- 
ent with  Wetzel's  ordinary  mood.  He  had  now  put 
about  one  hundred  yards  between  himself  and  the 
men,  when  the  latter  began  to  realize  the  situation. 

"  He  is  escaping !  he  is  escaping !"  they  cried. 

Their  voices  only  spurred  the  hurrying  man  the 
faster. 

"  Fire !"  came  the  word  of  command. 

Bullets  whistled  about  the  fugitive,  one  of  them 
crashing  upon  the  manacles  that  held  his  wrists,  as 
he  raised  his  arms  above  his  head  to  make  a  spring 
forward. 

He  heard  the  rush  of  men  after  him,  and  he 
spurred  on  towards  the  dense  wood  straight  ahead  of 
him,  where  hiding-places  awaited  him,  even  with 
his  arms  bound  out-speeding  his  pursuers. 

On,  on,  and  he  reached  the  friendly  darkness  of 
the  familiar  forest,  and  was  swallowed  up  and  ab- 
sorbed by  the  dense  foliage. 

Being  so  fully  acquainted  with  that  part  of  the 
country,  he  made  his  way  to  a  thicket,  three  or  four 
miles  from  the  fort,  which  promised  a  safe  covert.  In 
the  midst  of  this  thicket  he  came  across  an  immense 
tree,  one  of  the  pati'iarchs  of  the  old  forest,  which 


246  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

had  fallen  across  a  log,  where  the  surrounding  brush 
was  very  thick  and  close. 

Under  this  friendly  tree  he  managed  to  squeeze 
his  body,  without  disturbing  the  leaves  about  him. 

Here  he  was  comparatively  safe  from  discovery, 
for  the  brush  was  so  thick  that  detection  seemed 
next  to  impossible,  unless  his  pursuers  had  the  cun- 
ning of  Indians  and  examined  everything  suspi- 
ciously. 

"  But  I  will  never  leave  this  shelter  alive  in  the 
hands  of  hangmen,"  he  said. 

This  was  his  firm  determination.  He  would  far 
rather  die  by  an  Indian's  hand.  In  his  cramped 
and  painful  position,  more  than  ever  did  he  realize 
the  predicament  he  was  in.  And  yet  he  decided 
that  anything  was  better  than  to  have  left  an  Indian 
unscathed  when  it  was  in  his  power  to  inflict  well- 
merited  punishment. 

"  But  a  murderer!"  he  thought  indignantly.  "How 
dare  they  use  such  a  word  to  me!  Would  Isaac 
have  been  murdered  had  his  father  sacrificed  him  at 
the  command  of  God?  *  Honor  thy  father,'  God 
commands  me ;  and  I  honor  him  in  avenging  him. 
And  to  be  hanged  for  doing  this  I  No,  I  will  never 
give  myself  up  to  the  hangman  I" 


FREE,  247 


CHAPTER  XII. 

FKEE. 

A  S  soon  as  General  Harmar  knew  of  the  escape, 
he  started  the  soldiers  in  pursuit. 

"Let  the  Indians  go,  too,"  he  said.  "This  man 
has  wantonly  betrayed  my  confidence  in  him." 

The  general  had  lost  confidence  in  the  bravery  of 
the  man  who  abused  kindness.  How  could  he  be 
expected  to  enter  into  Wetzel's  feelings?  He  saw 
only  that  it  was  strength  opposed  to  strength,  and 
he  resolved  that  Wetzel,  the  Indian  scout,  should  not 
laugh  at  the  soldier. 

But  in  the  forest  the  man  who  had  abused  the 
soldier's  confidence  lay  hid,  determined,  and  expect- 
ant of  death  every  minute. 

Death  stared  him  in  the  face,  and  he  was  not 
afraid. 

"  Why  should  I  be  afraid  ?"  he  thought.  "  I  have 
but  done  what  I  know  to  be  right  in  the  sight  of  One 
who  governs  both  life  and  death." 

Bat  he  would  not  risk  his  life  ruthlessly;  he  must 
keep  life  at  all  hazards  so  long  as  he  might.    There 


248  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

was  no  bravery  in  forcing  death  upon  himself.  Death 
had  often  stared  him  in  the  face  before,  and  once, 
when  he  was  starving,  when  he  had  kept  himself 
apart  from  his  friends  while  he  waited  for  a  man's 
strength,  he  had  eaten  clay  to  withstand  the  pangs 
of  hunger,  as  he  had  more  than  once  seen  the 
Indians  do,  to  allow  the  distended  muscles  of  the 
stomach,  that  awaited  food,  to  go  on  with  their  work, 
and  allow  him  time  to  search  for  something  more 
appetizing  than  earth. 

And  to  think  of  a  man  wearing  an  honorable 
uniform  to  come  after  him,  as  General  Harmar  did, 
knowing  so  well  the  principle  he  was  violating  1 
His  face  burned  with  indignation  as  he  thought. 
And  he  himself  had  been  so  willing  to  assist  the 
military  when  it  had  been  the  pride  of  the  military 
to  shoot  Indians.  He  could  not  understand,  any 
more  than  the  other  settlers  could  understand.  He 
only  knew  that  he  and  the  men  like  him  were  being 
assailed ;  he  most  of  all,  because  his  provocation  had 
been  greater,  and  he  had  asserted  his  rights.  He 
pitied  the  civilization  that  called  his  offense  a  crime. 

No,  he  would  sell  his  life  dearly.  He  had  not  lain 
in  his  place  of  concealment  very  long,  before  he 
heard  the  noise  of  pursuers.  With  his  knowledge 
of  the  sounds  of  wild  life,  he  distinguished  the  dif- 
ference between  the  coming  steps. 


FREE,  249 

"I  did  not  think  that  General  Harmar  was  so 
cowardly  as  to  take  Indians  into  his  confidence  to 
carry  out  the  laws  which  should  make  the  earth 
more  than  a  hell,"  he  muttered. 

The  sounds  of  approaching  men  smote  upon  his 
ear,  coming  nearer  and  nearer. 

The  soldiers  kept  to  the  more  open  wood,  looking 
cautiously  about  them. 

But  the  Indians  separated  from  the  whites,  and, 
plunging  into  the  heart  of  the  wood,  tried  the 
manoeuvres  of  savage  life. 

In  the  first  place,  there  being  many  empty  tree 
trunks  there,  they  lighted  heaps  of  leaves  and  thrust 
them  into  the  hollow  trunks  to  smoke  out  any  con- 
cealed human  being.  They  trampled  upon  heaps 
of  innocent  wood-debris  for  the  same  purpose  of 
detection.  They  found  mouths  of  hiding-places 
which  in  all  probability  had  never  been  before 
known,  and  their  instinct  appeared  to  lead  them 
correctly  to  places  of  possible  retreat  which  man  had 
never  used.  They  were  plainly  disgusted  with  their 
failure  to  discover  him  they  sought,  and  became  ill- 
natured  and  exacting  of  each  other,  and  some  even 
accused  others  of  being  cowards,  and  afraid  to 
capture  the  white  man  if  they  even  knew  where  he 
was  hiding. 

There  were  more  trees  overturned  than  the  one 


25a  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Wetzel  used,  and  in  the  outskirt  of  the  wood  these 
were  more  plentiful,  and  they  did  not  escape  the 
attention  of  the  vigilant  men  who,  adepts  in  slyness 
and  cunning,  deemed  their  enemies  their  equal^ 
in  these  qualities.  But  their  search  was  unavailing, 
and  their  tempers  were  not  sweetened  by  the  con- 
templation of  defeat. 

Yet  the  patience  of  the  men  who  waited  months, 
and  even  years,  to  get  an  enemy  into  their  clutches, 
was  not  of  the  timbre  to  give  way  under  early  defeat 
and  discorfifiture.  They  went  into  squads  and  re- 
connoitered,  but  without  success. 

Then  two  of  them  strayed  from  their  red  brothers, 
and,  entering  into  the  depths  of  the  brush,  prodded 
around  there.  "  No  white  man  yet,"  Wetzel  heard 
them  complain. 

These  two  becoming  tired  of  their  fruitless  search 
looked  about  them,  and  seeing  an  overturned  tree, 
went  and  threw  themselves  among  its  branches  and 
swung  as  in  a  hammock. 

They  could  not  hear  the  heart  that  throbbed 
wildly  under  that  tree.  To  be  taken  by  these  de- 
praved Indians  was  the  worst  ignominy  of  all  to  the 
hiding  man.  He  dared  not  move  a  muscle,  and  yet 
how  he  longed  to  plunge  a  knife  into  the  base  hearts 
of  the  red-skins  who  lay  directly  above  him,  and 
called  him  a  coward  for  hiding,  as  ho  plainly  made 


FREE.  251 

out  as  they  talked  on  in  their  braggadocio  manner. 
At  last  the  two  Indians  arose  from  their  perch  and 
went  on  with  the  search. 

Wetzel  could  hear  them  talking  and  cursing  as 
they  prodded  about  in  the  bush.  Then  their  voices 
grew  indistinct,  more  distant,  and  only  the  noise 
their  clubs  made  in  beating  the  brush  could  be 
heard.  Then  that  died  away,  and  all  was  quiet. 
The  squirrels  leaped  in  and  out  among  the  branches 
of  the  fallen  tree,  and  that  w^as  all. 

The  danger  for  the  present  was  over. 

The  day  wore  away  and  night  came  down,  and 
there  was.  no  sound  in  the  thicket  which  told  of 
man. 

Not  until  the  stars  were  many  in  the  heaven  did 
Wetzel  creep  out  from  beneath  the  log,  and  stretch 
his  cramped  limbs  and  stand  upright.  He  went  a 
little  way  from  the  log  and  looked  about  him.  The 
moon  silvered  the  trunks  of  the  trees,  and  cut  a 
shining  path  whichever  way  he  turned  towards  the 
spaces  where  the  trees  were  thinner  than  in  the 
place  where  he  stood.  But  what  should  he  do  ?  His 
hands  were  yet  confined  by  iron  cuffs,  and  he  knew 
of  no  place  on  this  side  of  the  Ohio  where  he  dared 
apply  for  assistance. 

He  remembered  that  a  man  from  Wheeling,  one 
Charley  Madison,  had  lately  put  up  a  cabin  on.  the 


252  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

Virginia  side  of  the  Ohio.  He  determined  that  he 
was  the  man  who  would  assist  him.  But  to  cross 
the  river  was  the  difficulty !  He  could  not  make  a 
raft  with  bound  and  fettered  hands.  He  could 
scarcely  trust  himself  to  swim  in  his  present  disabled 
condition. 

He  left  the  thicket,  and  directed  his  course  to  the 
Ohio  by  a  circuitous  route,  which,  in  time,  brought 
him  to  a  lonely  spot  four  miles  below  the  fort. 

Here  a  piece  of  good  luck  awaited  him ;  by  the 
light  of  the  moon  which  made  everything  visible  as 
the  sun,  he  could  see  that  not  far  from  the  opposite 
shore  a  man  was  fishing. 

He  looked  anxiously  at  this  man.  At  length  he 
recognized  him  as  Isaac  Wiseman,  an  inveterate 
fisherman,  whom  he  had  often  helped  to  mend  nets. 

Could  he  rely  on  this  man? — might  there  not 
already  be  a  tempting  reward  for  his  apprehension, 
which  should  make  many  a  poor  man  see  the  scout 
only  as  an  escaped  murderer,  which  justice,  as  repre- 
sented by  the  law,  plainly  had  a  right  to  ? 

But  it  was  all  or  nothing  to  him,  and  he  had 
resolved  never  to  be  hanged. 

Not  daring  to  call  to  the  fisherman  and  test  his 
allegiance,  for  he  suspected  his  pursuers  were  every- 
where around,  particularly  as  now  the  Indians  were 
called  in  as  officers  of  the  law,  he  made  a  gentle 


FREE.  253 

splashing  in  the  water,  then  waved  his  hat  with  his 
manacled  hand,  to  attract  the  attention  of  the  man. 

The  fisherman  in  his  canoe  appeared  not  at  all 
astonished,  and  this  awakened  the  suspicions  of 
Wetzel.  The  canoe  paddled  over  towards  the  shore, 
its  occupant  lightly  humming  the  refrain  of  a  song. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  canoe  touched  land. 

"I  am  fishing,"  said  Wiseman  sententiously, 
without  w^aiting  to  he  accosted. 

"  Do  you  know  who  I  am  ?'  asked  Wetzel,  bending 
his  eyes  upon  him. 

The  other  shook  his  head. 

"  I  am  fishing,"  he  repeated. 

Wetzel  hung  back. 

"Was  it  Peter,  who  called  himself  a  fisher  of 
men  ?"  asked  Wiseman,  looking  at  him.  "  Get  in  ! 
get  in !  I  heard  of  the  escape  of  a  man  from  the 
fort,  so  I  bethought  me  the  night  was  fine  for  fish, 
which  the  noise  at  the  fort  might  drive  down  this 
way  for  a  little  quiet  nibble.  So,  says  I, '  Isaac,'  I 
says,  '  you'd  better  go  a-fishing.'  So  I  go  a-fisliing. 
Don't  you  see  ?  But  I  don't  know  you — never  saw 
you  before.     Get  in  !" 

In  another  minute  they  Avere  paddling  silentl}^, 
but  very  rapidly,  over  the  Ohio  in  the  moonlight. 

"  For,"  went  on  Wiseman,  bending  his  eyes  on  the 

line  that  flowed  in  the  wake  of  the  boat,  "  when  a 

22 


254  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

man  goes  a-fishing,  there  is  no  telling  what  he  may 
catch.  Once  I  got  a  nibble,  and  it  was  a  man-fish 
escaped  from  the  British,  who  doubtless  wanted 
him  for  supper.  They  came  for  him.  Says  I,  M  go 
a-fishing,  that  is  all  I  do.'  So  they  cursed  my 
stupidity  and  went  on.  But  at  the  same  time,  the 
man-fish  was  in  the  bottom  of  my  boat,  covered  over 
with  a  blanket,  which  I  always  have  with  me  in  case 
the  fish  should  become  cold.  And,  now,  here  we 
go!" 

So  he  talked  with  a  nasal  sadness,  as  he  paddled 
the  canoe  across  the  stream. 

Once  on  the  Virginia  shore,  "Wetzel  had  little  to 
fear,  for  his  well-wishers  were  numerous  there,  and 
would  have  shed  their  blood  in  his  defense. 

Wiseman  let  him  go  without  a  word,  and  Wetzel 
could  hear  him  singing  as  he  hurried  over  the 
ground,  the  fisherman  spreading  his  nets  without 
the  slightest  trace  of  discomposure. 

Wetzel  succeeded  in  finding  MadisDu's  cabin  which 
he  had  helped  to  erect,  and  cautiously  aroused  the 
friendly  occupant. 

"  Not  a  word,  Charley,"  he  said,  as  his  friend  tum- 
bled out  of  the  cabin,  rifle  in  hand,  to  ask  the 
meaning  of  this  intrusion, "  you  see  how  I  am  loaded 
down.  All  I  want  you  to  do,  is  to  strike  off  my  irons, 
friend,  and  immediately." 


FREE.  255 

These  settlers,  perhaps,  had  learned  from  the 
Indian  code  of  politeness  that  it  is  scarcely  in  good 
form  to  ask  unnecessary  questions  of  a  sudden  guest, 
and  surely  questions  were  unnecessary  in  this  case. 

So,  hurrying  into  his  cabin,  Madison  soon  returned 
with  a  hammer  and  a  small  anvil. 

"  On  with  your  arms,"  he  said,  indicating  a  space 
on  the  anvil,  and  stepping  aside  that  the  moon  might 
fully  illuminate  the  delicate  operation.  A  couple 
of  sharp,  well-directed  strokes,  and — "  Off  with  your 
armdets,"  said  Madison,  concluding  bis  speech. 

"And  now,  good-bye!"  said  Wetzel,  seizing  the 
hand  of  his  liberator. 

"  But  you  will  stay  over  night,"  urged  the  other. 
*'  See,  you  are  weak,  even  now." 

"  But  it  may  bring  you  into  danger." 

"  Cuss  the  danger !  Here  you  are,  and  here  you 
stay." 

When  he  had  eaten  and  felt  refreshed,  Wetzel 
apprised  his  friend  of  the  circumstances  of  his 
case. 

Then  he  laid  him  down  to  rest.  In  the  early 
morning  he  prepared  for  departure. 

He  had  said  farewell,  when  Madison  called  out  to 
him: 

"  But  you  haven't  asked  me  why  I've  built  this 
cabin." 


256  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  I  suppose  it's  because  you  wanted  to  do  it.  I 
thought  that  from  the  first." 

"Oh,  no;  that's  not  it.  I'm  going  to  be  mar- 
ried." 

"  I  wish  you  happiness." 

"  But  you  haven't  asked  me  who  she  is." 

"  I'm  not  very  inquisitive." 

"  Then  I'll  tell  you ;  it's  Berta  Rosencranz.  Such 
a  dance  as  she  has  led  me ;  such  a  dance  as  she's  led 
me  these  three  years.  I  did  think  that  she  cared 
for  somebody  else;  but  last  week  she  told  me  all 
men  were  cowards  but  me,  and  that  she  never  saw 
such  a  world  for  cowards.  She  even  said  you  Avere 
the  biggest  coward  of  all." 

"All  the  same,  I  wish  you  and  her  happiness. 
Good-bye!" 

For  Wetzel  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  down  the  river 
and  on  to  Kentucky,  where  he  should  feel  safe  from 
the  grasp  of  General  Harmar. 

It  was  not,  however,  until  years  had  elapsed,  and 
General  Harmar  had  returned  to  Philadelphia,  that 
it  was  safe  for  Wiseman  and  Madison  to  avow  their 
assistance  of  Wetzel,  such  was  the  weakness  of  civil 
authority  and  the  absolute  supremacy  of  military 
rule  on  the  frontier. 

At  a  bend  in  the  river  Wetzel  came,  after  a  hur- 
ried and  cautious  walk,  upon  Wiseman  in  his  canoe. 


FREE.     ^  257 

"  I'm  a-fishing,"  said  he.  "I thought  it  just  possi- 
ble the  noise  Madison  and  his  hammer  and  anvil 
made  would  drive  the  fish  down  this  way  for  a 
quiet  nibble.  So,  says  I,  *  Isaac,'  says  I, '  now's  your 
chance.'    So  here  I  am,  and  get  in." 

But  the  angler  got  out  as  the  scout  got  in. 

"  It's  an  unlucky  canoe,"  explained  Wiseman, "  for 
the  fish  never  stay  hooked.  I'll  make  you  a  present 
of  it ;  it  may  bring  you  better  luck ;  besides,  you've 
a  long  journey  to  go,  and  the  canoe  wouldn't  carry 
two  well.  And  here's  a  blanket  and  a  rifle  and 
some  fodder.  I'm  a-fishing — that's  the  reason  I 
happen  to  have  so  much  about  me.  Catch !  here's 
the  fodder.    There's  the  rifle  and  the  blanket." 

"Blankets  are  to  warm  your  fish,  I  suppose?'* 
smiled  Wetzel. 

"  Precisely,"  answered  the  other ;  "  you  and  I  have 
no  idea  how  cold  the  bottom  of  a  boat  is  after 
you've  lived  for  years  in  the  warm  water.  And  now 
hurry  on.  The  brush  opposite  bloomed  with  eyes 
all  of  last  night." 

Thanking  his  friend,  Wetzel  paddled  on,  and  the 
disciple  of  Walton,  satisfied  with  his  catch,  strolled 
on  humming. 

Subsequently  to  Wetzel's  escape,  General  Harmar 
removed  his  headquarters  to  Fort  Washington,  Cin- 
cinnati.   One  of  his  first  official  acts  in  this  new 


258  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

place  was  to  issue  a  proclamation  offering  a  consider-? 
able  reward  for  the  arrest  and  delivery  at  the  fort 
of  "  the  body  of  one  Lewis  Wetzel,  an  Indian  scout, 
well  known  to  the  frontier." 

"Though  I  scarcely  expect  to  get  him;  for  I 
doubt  if  there  is  a  man  daring  enough  to  attempt 
such  a  service,"  said  the  general,  speaking  to  a  com- 
panion. 

"  Or  base  enough,"  was  the  rejoinder. 

So  the  scout  was  free  again,  and  only  that  poor 
reward  for  his  apprehension  shadowed  his  path. 


THE  EUNDBED  DOLLARS  REWARD,  259 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  HUNDRED   DOLLARS  REWARD. 

A  GAIN  there  is  a  silence  of  some  time  before  we 
hear  of  Lewis  Wetzel  in  the  company  of  other 
men.  His  time  was  busied  in  the  usual  way  of  solitary 
t  vigil,  and  as  he  never  boasted  of  his  achievements, 
nor,  indeed,  thought  very  much  of  them,  it  was  only 
after  a  long  continuance  of  loneliness  that  he  sought 
out  the  habitations  of  men,  when  the  incentive  to 
his  vengeance  seemed  to  grow  less  in  the  peaceful 
habitudes  of  the  forest  and  the  close  communion 
with  nature. 

But  a  party  of  savages  having,  in  the  spring  of 
1787  (De  Haas  says  1786),  crossed  the  Ohio  at  what 
was  called  the  Mingo  Bottom,  three  miles  below  the 
present  Steubenville,  and  began  their  depredations, 
the  people  took  alarm. 

The  savages  killed  an  entire  family  of  whites,  but 
retreating  immediately,  for  some  unexplained  cause, 
they  effected  their  escape  with  impunity. 

This  inroad  took  the  settlers  by  surprise,  the  Indians 
not  having  crossed  the  Ohio  in  that  neighborhood 
for  the  previous  eighteen  months. 


260  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  people  were  in  a  wholly  unprotected  state, 
and  filled  with  the  direst  apprehension. 

A  subscription  was  immediately  drawn  up,  headed 
by  those  in  the  easiest  circumstances,  for  the  main 
purpose  of  stimulating  the  young  and  active  to 
habits  of  vigilance,  which  pledged  a  reward  of  a 
hundred  dollars  to  the  scout  who  would  first  bring 
in  an  Indian  scalp. 

This  ofiPering  of  a  reward  for  scalps  proves  how 
futile  had  been  the  efforts  of  General  Harmar  to 
impress  his  ideas  upon  the  settlers  thus  liable  to 
outrageous  attacks  from  the  Indians. 

It  seemed  that  the  young  men  had  only  waited 
for  a  stimulus,  and  now  this  reward  was  the  needed 
stimulus,  though  the  desire  to  wreak  vengeance  on 
the  foe  was  the  main-spring.  And  whatever  the 
pacific  intentions  of  the  general  may  have  engrafted 
into  some  minds,  those  intentions  were  nothing, 
alongside  of  what  the  settlers  had  to  excite  them  in 
a  contrary  direction. 

For  two  or  three  days  after  the  attack,  some  rela- 
tives of  the  family  massacred  came  into  the  settle- 
ment, calling  aloud  for  help  in  their  hour  of  trial. 

There  were  tales  of  misery  told  by  these  survivors 
of  the  massacre  that  made  strong  men  weak  as  they 
were  related.  Those  who  listened  grew  strong  in 
wrath  as  they  heard,  and  made  their  vows  of  venge- 


TBE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD.  261 

ance  before  the  recital  of  the  outrages  were  finished 
by  the  narrators. 

They  looked  at  one  another,  and  they  looked  at 
the  horror-stricken  faces  of  the  few  people  remain- 
ing of  a  flourishing  little  settlement,  who  had  come 
to  them  with  their ,  wrongs,  telling  for  prompt 
sympathy  the  story  of  what  they  had  undergone. 

"We  will  aid  you,"  was  said  to  them. 

"Aid  us  to  get  our  revenge,"  was  the  speedy 
rejoinder. 

"  What  is  peace  to  these  red-skins  ?"  they  asked. 
"It  is  only  that  the  whites  lay  down  their  arms  and 
submit  to  murders  like  this.  Did  it  take  the  army 
of  us  white  men  to  drive  the  settlers  back  to  the  first 
principles  of  the  forest — that  is,  to  own  to  the  rights 
of  the  Indians  to  our  lands  and  stock?  Must  we 
calmly  sit  down  here  like  so  many  whipped  children, 
and  say  that  this  family  deserved  the  treatment  they 
received,  and  that  they  were  carrying  out  the  spirit 
of  the  law  in  receiving  murder  at  the  hands  of  the 
savages ;  while,  had  they  turned  on  the  savages  and 
killed  therrif  they  would  have  been  guilty  of  a 
flagrant  breach  of  the  code  set  down  by  General 
Harmar,  and  folks  of  his  stamp.  Who  will  avenge 
this  murdered  family,  and  show  the  white  soldier 
how  little  he  knows  of  Indian  warfare?" 

Fifty  voices  declared  that  fifty  men  were  then  and 


262  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

there  willing  and  anxious  to  take  "up  arms  and 
vindicate  their  rights,  and  that  their  number  would 
increase  hourly. 

But  this  enthusiasm  meant  only  killing  without 
mercy,  and  that  was  not  what  the  older  and  cooler- 
headed  had  intended.  The  reward  should  stand  as  it 
had  at  first  been  fixed,  but  some  order  must  be  main- 
tained and  some  show  of  discipline  organize  the 
company  that  might  be  deputed  to  go  in  search  of 
the  depredators. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  the  feverish  settlers 
could  see  in  this  determination  to  maintain  order 
anything  else  than  an  upholding  of  the  army  code 
of  peace.  But  it  gradually  settled  down  into  some 
show  of  authority  on  the  part  of  the  projectors  of 
the  expedition,  from  whose  pockets  the  reward  was 
to  come, — though  it  would  be  ungenerous  to  hint 
that  the  money  alone  actuated  any  one  of  the  poorer 
settlers  to  undertake  an  expedition  that  promised 
death  to  more  than  one  of  their  number. 

Our  friend,  Major  McMahan,  was  then  deputed  to 
raise  a  company  of  twenty  men  only.  In  a  half- 
hour  his  ranks  were  filled,  and  a  host  of  disappointed 
ones  were  clamorous  to  have  the  number  increased, 
volunteering  not  to  touch  the  hundred  dollars 
should  any  of  them  be  so  fortunate  as  to  earn  it. 
But  Major  McMahan  was  inflexible,  and  refused  to 


THE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD,  263 

add  one  more  man  to  his  ranks,  well  knowing  the 
trouble  of  many  such  reckless  men,  to  whom  subor- 
dination meant  nothing,  when  they  once  sighted  the 
enemy. 

The  day  at  last  came  when  the  little  party  were 
to  set  out  on  the  search,  and  a  crowd  of  settlers, 
their  wives  and  children,  were  collected  in  the  early 
morning  to  see  them  off. 

When  the  men  were  drawn  up  in  line,  twenty-one 
men  were  counted. 

"How  is  this?"  inquired  the  major. 

"  Wrong  count,"  shouted  a  by-stander. 

"  Right  count,"  shouted  another. 

The  men  were  told  off  again,  and  it  was  twenty- 
one. 

"  It's  Xancy,  whose  sweetheart  is  going,  and  she*s 
dressed  herself  to  follow  him,"  cried  a  woman. 

Nancy,  a  blushing  woman  with  her  apron  to  her 
eyes,  stepped  forward  and  disavowed  any  such  inten- 
tion, though  her  sweetheart  was  going,  and  as  brave 
a  man  as  any  man  there  dare  be,  let  any  man,  or 
woman  either,  contradict  her  to  their  peril. 

"  It's  dirty  Dick,"  cried  another  one  of  the 
loungers. 

A  man,  covered  with  dust,  here  strode  out  from 
the  ranks. 

"  I  could  come  no  faster  than  I  did,"  he  said;  " let 
me  go." 


264  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  You  look  as  though  you  sadly  stood  in  want  of 
a  hundred  dollars,"  returned  Major  McMahan,  fail- 
ing to  recognize  the  unkempt,  wild-looking,  long- 
haired man. 

The  stranger  only  glared  at  him,  going  back  to 
the  ranks. 

"  Not  so  fast,  my  friend,"  said  the  major,  "  not  so 
fast." 

"  Let  him  go,"  shouted  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"  Don't  let  him  go,"  screamed  a  female  voice. 

"Let  him  go,"  screamed  another  female  voice, 
Nancy's. 

"  He  makes  more  than  twenty,"  answered  the  first 
female  voice,  spitefully. 

"Mind  your  business,  and  don't  attempt  arith- 
metic, Mrs.  Madison,"  cried  Nancy;  "and  don't  go 
to  saying  a  second  time  that  I'd  dress  up  like  a  man 
and  follow  my  sweetheart." 

"  You  would — you  know  you  would." 

"  I  wou]d,  if  I  was  like  you,  that  followed  one  man 
I  know,  till  he  had  to  clear  out." 

"  Hurrah  for  Nancy !"  shouted  some. 

"  Hurrah  for  Berta  Madison,"  shouted  others. 

In  the  midst  of  this  distraction.  Major  McMahan 
turned  to  the  stranger. 

"  Who  are  you  ?"  he  asked. 

"  I  am  Lewis  Wetzel,  Major  McMahan,"  was  the 
reply. 


THE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD.  265 

"The  company  is  twenty-one!"  cried  the  major, 
in  a  voice  that  silenced  belligerent  man  and  woman. 

"  That's  not  fair,"  cried  a  man  who  had  not  been 
accepted  in  the  ranks.  "  Why  should  a  stranger  have 
the  preference  over  us?" 

"A  stranger!"  sneered  Nancy;  "where's  your 
eyes,  Bob  Thomas  ?  That  is  Lewis  Wetzel ;  I  knew 
him  from  the  first.  So  did  Mrs.  Madison — that's 
why  she  said  he  had  no  right  to  go." 

"  Why,  I  thought  they  were  sweethearts  once  ?" 

"  Booby !  she  hates  him.  W^hat  do  you  know 
about  sweethearts?  She  couldn't  get  him !  That's 
what !" 

"  Forward  !'^  cried  the  major,  giving  the  word  of 
command,  and  the  little  party  tramped  off,  cheered 
out  of  the  settlement  by  their  friends. 

On  the  perilous  expedition  the  little  company  set 
out  forthwith,  and  soon  crossing  the  Ohio,  discovered 
an  Indian  trail,  which  they  followed  till  they  came 
to  the  Muskingum  River. 

Advance  guards  were  sent  out,  who  proceeded 
cautiously  to  inspect  the  locality. 

They  had  not  gone  far  before  they  discovered  a 

party  of  Indians  around  a  newly-set-up  lodge,  on 

the  bank  of  the  river,  and  far  superior  in  numbers 

to  the  advancing  white  men. 

Hurriedly  retracing  their  steps,  the  guard  reported 
23 


266  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

to  Major  McMahan  the  condition  of  affairs,  and  he, 
thoughtful  of  the  safety  of  his  party,  retreated  to 
the  top  of  a  hill,  where  they  might  consult  as  to 
future  operations. 

"  But  the  Indians  have  not  discovered  us,"  said  a 
voice  from  the  ranks. 

"  But  there  is  a  chance  of  their  doing  so  at  any 
minute,"  said  the  major. 

He  then  entered  into  conference  with  the  more 
experienced  men. 

The  conclusion  of  the  conference  was  that  a  hasty 
retreat  was  all  that  was  left  the  white  party. 

There  was  grumbling  from  the  youngest  and  most 
ambitious  of  the  little  troop ;  for,  besides  the  glory 
attached  to  the  successful  operations  of  the  com- 
mand, the  reward  of  a  hundred  dollars  was  not  to 
be  despised,  even  by  a  brave  man,  as  a  hundred 
dollars  went  a  little  further  in  those  days  of  necessi- 
ties without  luxuries.'  ^ 

"I  want  the  first  scalp,"  said  a  young,  stalwart 
fellow,  "  for  I  mean  to  be  married  in  the  fall." 

"  You  may  have  your  own  scalp  off  by  that  time," 
replied  a  companion. 

"  But  I  mean  to  try  to  keep  it  on,  and  try  how  an 
Injun  feels  without  one.  And  even  if  it  goes,  Nancy 
will  know  I  tried  for  the  money  we  want  for  house- 
keeping things." 


THE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD.  267 

"While  the  party  were  in  close  confab  as  to  whether 
prudence  consisted  in  going  or  staying,  Lewis  Wetzel 
carelessly  sat  upon  a  mossy  logj  his  gun  laid  across 
his  lap,  his  tomahawk  in  his  hand.  He  paid  no 
attention  whatever  to  the  council ;  he  had  not  come 
to  talk. 

"  They  will  send  us  home  again,"  said  a  man  to 
him. 

"W^ill  they?"  he  asked,  and  turned  his  back  on 
his  informant. 

As  soon  as  the  resolution  to  retreat  was  adopted, 
the  party  set  about  obeying  the  command. 

All  except  Lewis  Wetzel.  He  still  sat  upon 
the  mossy  log,  his  gun  in  his  lap,  his  tomahawk  in 
his  hand. 

His  companions  called  to  him,  and  he  paid  no 
attention  to  them. 

The  party  set  out,  and  had  gone  a  few  yards,  when 
Major  McMahan,  thinking  the  man  asleep,  came 
back  himself,  and  ordered  him  to  go  along  with  the 
rest. 

Lewis  Wetzel  turned  his  face  up  to  the  major, 
without  arising  from  the  log. 

"  I  shall  stay  for  what  I  came,"  he  answered 
quietly.  "Go,  major;  you  take  back  the  twenty 
men  you  had  before  I  interloped." 

Arguments  were  unavailing ;  he  was  said  to  be  so 


268  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

stubborn  in  the  one  idea  of  his  life  that  he  never 
submitted  to  any  control  or  advice  which  threatened 
to  thwart  him. 

And  as  military  discipline  dealt  not  with  men  of 
his  stamp,  Major  McMahan  and  his  party  were  com- 
pelled to  leave  him,  a  solitary  being,  in  the  midst  of 
the  thick  forest,  surrounded  by  vigilant  enenlies  ever 
on  the  alert. 

As  soon  as  he  was  assured  the  men  had  left  him, 
and  he  no  longer  heard  the  snapping  of  twigs  as 
they  crushed  the  sapplings  to  the  ground,  he  arose 
picked  up  his  gun,  and  struck  off  into  another  part 
of  the  country,  looking  about  him.  He  kept  moving 
along ,  swiftly  through  the  underbrush,  but  aloof 
from  the  larger  streams,  where  he  could  see  great 
parties  of  the  Indians  encamped,  and  he  gritted  his 
teeth  as  he  saw  them  rollicking  and  at  ease. 

He  prowled  through  the  woods  with  a  noiseless 
tread,  and  the  eye  of  the  eagle;  he  traversed  the 
ground  all  that  day  and  the  next,  when  towards 
evening  he  discovered  smoke  curling  up  from 
among  the  bushes. 

He  crept  softly  forward  in  this  direction,  nearer 
and  nearer  still,  till  he  came  full  upon  the  fire,  and 
found  two  blankets  and  a  small  cox^per  camping 
kettle. 

This  was  then  the  camp  of  but  two  Indians' 

He  exulted  at  the  thought. 


TBE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD.  269 

He  concealed  himself  in  the  thick  brush,  but  in 
such  a  position  that  he  could  readily  see  the  number, 
and  watch  the  movements  of  the  campers. 

Pretty  soon  one  of  the  Indians  came  in  and  stirred 
up  the  fire,  and  brought  forth  a  huge  piece  of 
venison,  and,  stripping  the  tough  hide  away  from 
the  flesh,  began  roasting  it.  Then,  while  he  was 
attending  to  this  culinary  business,  the  other  Indian 
came  in  with  a  grunt  of  satisfaction,  as  he  sniffed 
the  ascending  fumes  of  the  deer-flesh  in  the  glowing 
fire. 

Two  bright  eyes  among  the  bushes  were  looking 
intently  on,  but  the  chiefs  noticed  them  not. 

Perfectly  assured  of  their  safety  and  freedom  from 
intrusion,  they  began  ravenously  on  their  supper, 
eating  with  a  gusto  that  was  tantalizing  to  the  white 
scout  in  the  bushes,  who  was  almost  famishing. 

Then,  supper  finished,  the  Indians  began  crooning 
songs,  drinking  from  flasks  the  "  fire-water  "  of  the 
whites,  and  telling  comic  stories,  bursting  into  peals 
of  hearty  laughter. 

Nearer  and  yet  nearer  crept  the  white  man  in  the 
bushes;  nearer  and  nearer  he  came,  noiseless,  but 
with  the  fullest  of  intents,  nearer  yet  to  the  now 
waning  fire,  till  he  was  close  enough  to  have  touched 
one  of  the  men,  and  could  easily  have  snatched  the 
meat  from  the  fire,  of  which  the  Indians  had  now 


270  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

enough,  and  were  allowing  the  remainder  to  burn 
to  a  cinder. 

The  wolves  around,  attracted  by  the  scent,  were 
howling,  and  birds  of  prey  fluttering  in  the 
branches. 

The  liquor  they  had  taken  seemed  to  make  the 
savages  fiercer,  for  they  dropped  from  their  mirth- 
fulness  and  songs,  and  began  a  low  war-song, 
speaking  of  vengeance  on  the  whites,  and  torture  to 
the  first  scout  they  would  get  into  their  clutches. 

Grasping  his  weapons,  Wetzel  looked  on,  and  saw 
and  heard  all.     Yet  he  bided  his  time. 

About  ten  o'clock  one  of  the  Indians,  throwing  a 
heap  of  wood  on  the  fire  in  order  to  keep  it  bright, 
and  prevent  an  inroad  of  the  wolves,  wrapped  his 
blanket  around  him,  shouldered  his  rifle,  and  taking 
a  chunk  of  fire  in  his  hand,  left  the  camp,  doubtless 
with  the  intention  of  going  to  watch  a  deer  lick — 
the  fire  and  smoke  of  the  torch  in  his  hand  to  keep 
off  the  gnats  and  mosquitoes. 

This  absence  of  one  of  the  Indians  was  a  severe 
vexation  to  the  watching  white  man,  who  now  went 
back  a  little  way,  but  who  still  hoped  that  the  absent 
red-skin  might  return  to  camp  ere  day. 

In  this  he  was  forced  to  bear  a  disappointment. 

Night  waned,  and  chirping  birds  proclaimed  the 
approach  of  day,  but  the  Indian  had  not  returned. 


THE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD.  271 

Cursing  his  luck,  Wetzel  went  on  to  the  camp-fire, 
chopping  at  a  wolf  who  attacked  him. 

He  found  the  remaining  Indian  fast  asleep,  lying 
on  his  side  and  snoring  loudly.  Wetzel  drew  forth 
his  formidable  knife,  and,  nerving  his  arm,  sent  it 
with  all  his  force  through  the  unconscious  savage's 
heart. 

There  was  a  short  quiver,  a  convulsive  move- 
ment, then  all  was  still,  and  life  had  sped  through 
the  forest  thickness,  past  the  prowling  animals,  past 
the  singing  birds,  up  to  the  Maker  of  life  to  be 
judged  and  awarded  according  to  its  earthly  useful- 
ness. 

Wetzel  looked  down  on  the  still,  bronzed  face, 
upon  the  brawny  limbs  and  tough  muscles,  and 
wondered  why  so  much  superb  strength  had  been 
given  a  creature  who  used  it  in  slothfulness  and 
pleasure. 

He  grasped  a  little  of  the  charred  remains  of  the 
venison  on  the  fire  with  which  he  satisfied  the  pangs 
of  growing  hunger.  He  then  scalped  the  dead 
Indian  and  slung  the  gory  braid  of  hair  to  his  belt. 
Stamping  out  the  remains  of  the  fire,  he  strode 
along,  apostrophizing  the  lurking  wolves  as  he  went. 

"Go,"  he  said,  "your  meal  awaits  you,"  and 
pointed  towards  the  extinct  camp-fire  and  the  pros- 
trate body  of  the  dead  brave. 


272    ^  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

He  strode  through  the  forest,  he  walked  day  and 
night  without  food,  and  reached  the  Mingo  Bottom 
only  one  day  after  his  unsuccessful  companions. 

"  What  luck  ?"  they  asked  him. 

"  I  want  Major  McMahan,"  was  his  response. 

"  But  what  luck  ?" 

"  Where  is  Major  McMahan  ?" 

"  At  least  tell  us  your  luck." 

"  I  have  had  no  luck.  And  now  where  is  Major 
McMahan?" 

"He  is  not  here.  W^hat  is  your  hurry,  man? 
Why  can't  you  rest  here  with  us  and  tell  us  all  that 
happened  you  after  we  left  you  ?" 

"  I  want  Major  McMahan.  I  have  no  time  to  rest. 
I  must  away  again  as  soon  as  I  have  seen  him." 

He  went  from  them,  and  paced  up  and  down  on  a 
long  slender  piece  of  sward.  For  hours  he  waited 
to  see  the  major.  He  was  not  impatient,  and  time 
was  of  little  account  to  him  when  he  had  to  put  up 
wdth  delay  of  this  kind.  For  he  meant  to  see  the 
major,  and  the  major  alone,  as  he  owed  him  some 
sort  of  excuse  for  refusing  to  obey  his  orders  in  the 
w^oods  and  marching  along  home  with  the  other 
men. 

The  major  was  seen  approaching.  Wetzel  went 
forward  to  him,  throwing  the  scalp  of  the  Indian 
upon  the  ground  before  him. 


THE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD.  273 

"  You  have  earned  the  reward,"  said  Major 
McMahan. 

"  What  reward  ?  I  want  no  reward  of  money. 
My  reward  w^as  in  getting  this." 

"  But,  man,  you  will  surely  claim  the  hundred 
dollars?" 

"  What  good  will  it  do  me  ?" 

"  It  will  replenish  your  store  of  necessities.  Your 
clothes  are  ragged,  your  gun  is  broken,  your  blanket 
torn — surely  you  think  of  your  comfort  ?" 

"  Comfort !  Am  I  a  Judas  ?  Do  I  accept  blood- 
money?" 

The  men  who  heard  him  turned  aw^ay,  some  of 
them  smiling  at  the  crazy  scout,  as  they  called  him. 

And  this  was  the  man  who  had  been  accused  of 
murder ! 

"I  only  wish  the  chance  was  mine,"  grumbled 
one  of  them. 

"  What  would  j^ou  do  w^ith  the  mone}''  ?"  asked 
Wetzel,  quick  as  a  flash,  turning  to  him. 

"  Fm  going  to  be  married  soon,  and  I'd  buy 
housekeeping  things  for  Nancy." 

"Is  that  all?" 

Wetzel  turned  away  gruffly,  and  went  and  sat 
down  upon  the  ground. 

That  evening,  when  the  men  were  disporting 
themselves,  he  presented  himself  to  Major  McMahan. 

"  Well,  Wetzel  ?"  began  the  major. 


274  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

• 

"I  have  come  to  claim  the  hundred  dollars/^ 
returned  the  scout. 

"  I  thought  you'd  regret  that  nonsense  of  yours," 
smiled  the  major.  "And  you  are  perfectly  right  in 
claiming  it.  You  earned  it,  and  men  wealthy 
enough  to  give  it  are  the  originators  of  the  reward, 
and  a  poor  man  like  you  has  every  right  to  come 
forward  and  claim  it.  I  am  glad  you've  got  over 
the  notion  of  blood-money.  It  is  rather  late  in  the 
day  for  you  to  become  squeamish,  Wetzel." 

"  Yes,  it  is  rather  late  in  the  day,"  mused  Wetzel. 

In  th6  month  of  June,  there  was  a  simple  wedding 
in  the  Bottom.  When  the  bride  had  been  kissed, 
and  stood,  all  blushes,  among  the  dames  and  damsels, 
a  boy  ran  in,  and  went  up  to  her. 

"  Get  out,"  cried  an  indignant  wife ;  "  where's 
your  manners,  dirty  Dick? — going  up  to  a  lass  in 
white  with  those  filthy  paws  of  yours." 

"  It's  something  for  her,"  demurred  dirty  Dick  to 
this  treatment. 

"  It's  some  ugly  thing  you've  caught  in  the  woods 
for  a  present  for  her,  I'll  be  bound.  But  get  away, 
do,  you  and  your  present.  W^hat  will  she  want  of 
it,  alongside  of  the  beautiful  chain  Major  McMahan 
sent  her?" 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Madison,  let  him  come  to  me.  Indeed, 
Dick,  I'm  thankful  for  your  offering,  whatever  it  is," 
said  the  bride. 


THE  HUNDRED  DOLLARS  REWARD.  275 

"It  taint  mine,"  he  said  sulkily,  "and  she 
wouldn't  give  me  time  to  say  so.  It  was  given  to 
me  by  a  long-haired  man,  who  made  for  the  woods. 
He  said  I  wasn't  to  give  it  into  any  hands  but 
yours." 

"  Don't  take  it,"  screamed  the  wife,  who  had 
hitherto  kept  the  boy  off;  "  it's  some  poison  Indian 
thing  that  your  old  jilted  lover  sends  you." 

"  I  never  had  a  jilted  lover,  Mrs.  Madison,"  began 
the  bride. 

"  Oh,  la !  didn't  you  ?  Why  I  had  twenty ;  there 
was  Lewis  Wetzel,  and " 

But  she  was  interrupted  by  a  cry  of  surprise  from 
the  rosy  bride,  who  had  taken  from  the  boy  a  scrap 
of  crumpled  paper,  upon  which  was  written,  in  rude, 
uncouth  characters :  "  For  Nancy,  to  buy  house- 
keeping things  with."  While  inside  was  a  hundred 
dollars  sewed  up  in  a  leaf. 

Who  the  donor  was  no  one  knew,  and  as  Dick's 
description  of  the  man  varied  with  the  importance 
that  now  attached  itself  to  him,  they  were  not  able 
to  ascribe  it  to  any  one  in  particular,  although  the 
popularly-accepted  opinion  was,  that  the  President 
had  sent  it,  and  did  not  desire  it  to  be  generally 
known. 

But  Nancy's  bridegroom  had  another  idea,  which 
he  did  not  make  generally  known. 


276  LEWIS  WETZEL. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE   TURKEY-CRY. 

A  BOUT  this  time,  Wetzel  made  one  of  his  periodi- 
cal  visits  to  Wheeling ;  and  after  vainly  trying 
to  discover  the  whereabouts  of  his  brothers,  who 
had  moved  further  West,  he  went  to  his  sisters,  who 
w^ere  yet  in  the  fort,  and  remained  for  a  short  time 
with  them. 

"  This  day  I  am  ninety  years  of  age,"  writes  old 
Eberly  in  the  last  pages  of  his  manuscript,  "  and  as 
I  was  moving  from  the  fort,  richly  pleased  that  the 
mercy  of  God  had  lett  me  remain  here  while  so 
manny  of  the  younger  have  gone  before  me,  a  man 
came  upp  to  me  and  helped  me  down  a  hill.  For  I 
bee  proper  feeble  now,  though  hoping  to  bee  strong 
again  by  next  Spring,  as  the  cool  air  never  goes  well 
with  the  rheumatiz.  The  man  was  Lowis  Wetzel, 
the  Sonne  of  John  that  was  killed  by  injuns  years 
ago.  Lowis  is  a  quiet  man,  and  when  I  blessed  him 
for  helping  of  me  hee  said  hee  might  bee  olde  him- 
self some  day,  and  hoped  a  younger  man  might  bee 
by  to  help  him.     Hee  is  properly  wrong  in  calling 


THE  TURKEY-CRY.  277 

me  olde.  I  bee  as  young  as  the  youngest.  But  hee 
is  well-intentioned,  though  ferce  to  look  upon,  and 
not  overly  careful  of  his  manners  inne  calling  of 
peple  olde." 

Wetzel  was  well  received  by  the  people  during 
this  visit,  and  he  might  have  had  a  merry  enough 
time,  had  he  been  so  minded.  For  his  assistance  in 
time  of  need  was  not  soon  to  be  forgotten,  and  just 
now  men  like  himself  were  rather  scarce  in  the  set- 
tlements, a  more  studious  set  having  taken  their 
place.  Men  other  than  mere  plodders  and  diggers 
and  delvers  were  coming  to  the  land  of  promise, 
white-faced  men  from  desks,  sickly  men  from  hos- 
pitals, worn-out  men  from  the  shambles  of  pleasure 
where  dissipation  calls  itself  enjoyment,  and  is  not 
disowned  until  the  body  and  brain  fail  of  their 
best  functions,  and  life  itself  palls  upon  life  viti- 
ated. 

Then  the  more  cultivated  and  wealthier  classes  in 

the  Eastern  States  had  itching  palms  to  possess  in 

fee-simple  the  wild  rolling  lands  of  the  West.   These 

latter  sent  colonists  from  the  work -shop  and  loom, 

and   claimed   the    land   thus   settled   on  by  their 

employees,   which  the   employees  were   at  liberty 

w^ithin  a  stated  time  of  forsaking  for  land  of  their 

own,   when   they   could   keep   themselves   without 

calling  upon  the  resources  of  the  wealthier  men. 
24 


278  i  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Mechanical  industries  were  springing  up,  too,  and  in 
some  of  the  older  settlements  the  little  work-shop 
and  the  single  loom  made  humming  music  in  the 
air  that  had  never  before  been  broken  by  the  peace- 
ful sound. 

To  work  land  was  not  the  only  thing  thought  of; 
there  were  men  here  who  did  not  possess  physical 
strength  enough  to  do  that.  There  was  a  report  in 
Wheeling  that  a  dress-maker  was  coming  out  with 
her  husband,  and  women  were  wondering  if  the 
fashions  had  changed  within  the  last  five  years,  and 
if  they  would  be  ashamed  of  themselves  after  the 
arrival  of  the  dress-maker.  The  changes  and 
thicker  settlements  drove  the  Indian  further  away, 
but  made  him  more  revengeful  and  crafty.  This 
was  the  state  of  affairs  when  it  was  told  that  Lewis 
Wetzel  had  come  to  see  his  sisters  and  people. 
Strangers  had  him  pointed  out  to  them. 

In  this  visit  to  his  sisters,  Wetzel  did  not  mention 
his  mother's  name,  and  it  was  only  on  the  eve  of 
his  departure  that  one  of  his  sisters  dared  say, 
timidly : 

"  I  am  sorry  mother  is  not  here  to  see  you.  Surely 
you  know  she  was  never  strong  after  father's  death, 
and  we  had  quite  a  time  to  get  her  over  her  nervous 
spells.  She  often  speaks  of  you  and  the  other  boys, 
but  she  thinks  it  rather  hard  she  should  be  left 


THE  TURKET'CItT,  ^79 

alone  without  a  son  in  her  old  days.  She  needs 
some  one  to  console  her " 

"  She  has  some  one  now,  I  have  heard,"  he  inter- 
rupted. 

"She  has  gone  up  the  river  for  a  spell,  to 
visit " 

"  Her  husband's  people.  Yes,  I  understand,"  he 
interrupted  again.  "  But  I  did  not  come  to  see  her; 
she  is  nothing  to  me — I  have  no  mother.  She  forgot 
my  father,  and  has  a  new  husband  now."       ~^ 

For  John  Wetzel's  widow  had  married. 

"She  was  lonely." 

"  Had  she  not  her  children  ?" 

"  She  had  grown  weak  and  querulous." 

"And  married  her  husband  in  consideration  of 
her  weakness  and  querulousness  ?  Let  it  be  so.  My 
mother  was  a  strong  woman  who  helped  to  make  a 
home  for  her  children  in  the  wilderness.  She  died 
with  my  father.  She  is  better  without  me — she  has 
a  husband  to  take  care  of  her.  I  could  never  like  her 
husband,  so  I  will  not  wait  to  see  him.  Good-bye, 
my  sisters !" 

"  But,  indeed,  he  is  not  a  foolish  man.  He  is  even 
now  trying  to  find  out  the  cause  of  the  turkey-call, 
and  has  left  mother  with  his  family  while  he  is 
away." 

"  Turkey-call?"' 


280  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  You  know  what  I  mean ;  the  call  that  anno3^s 
us  so  just  now." 

"  Good-bye !"  was  alt  the  brother  said. 

But  he  went  about  the  place  inquiring  into  the 
nature  of  any  disturbances  in  and  around  Wheeling. 
He  also  found  out  that  his  mother's  husband  was  a 
sensible,  practical  man. 

"  Then  why  did  he  marry  my  mother  ?"  he  ques- 
tioned himself. 

He  was  glad  that  good  reports  had  been  left 
behind  them  by  his  brothers,  for  he  took  an  interest 
in  all  the  affairs  of  his  family,  though  his  line  of 
action  and  self-ostracism  from  them  and  their  appa- 
rent interest  might  seem  to  prove  a  denial  of  the 
fact.  But  was  not  the  ridding  of  the  country  of  a 
pest  taking  the  interest  of  his  family  into  consider- 
ation ? 

Now  this  fatal  decoy  of  the  turkey-call  had  for  a 
long  time  proved  disastrous  to  the  frontier. 

The  painful  cry  of  birds  in  distress  had  flown 
through  the  air,  and  the  most  superstitious  of  the 
people  thought  it  a  harbinger  of  some  evil  about  to 
befall  the  land  so  lately  rebellious  against  the  king, 
and  shuddered  as  they  listened.  But  the  more 
practical  souls  had  determined  to  bring  the  mystery 
to  earth,  and  on  several  occasions  men  from  the 
fort  at  Wheeling  had  gpne  across  the  hills  in  their 


/ 


THE  TURKEY-CRY.  281 

quest,  and  on  more  than  one  occasion  the  men  had 
never  returned. 

When  Wetzel's  sister  told  him  that  his  mother's 
husband  had  determined  to  try  to  solve  the  mystery, 
he,  too,  undertook  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  the  myste- 
rious cries.  For  these  cries  would  come  up  from 
the  earth;  down  from  the  cloudless  sky;  in  the 
midst  of  gatherings  of  people  ;  when  wives  alone  in 
their  homes  attended  to  their  household  duties ;  at 
night  when  half  the  place  slept.  At  all  times,  in  all 
places  the  cries  were  heard ;  now  far  off,  now  near  at 
hand,  wailing  and  distressing  in  the  extreme. 
Prognostications  of  all  manner  of  evil  were  not 
wanting  among  the  people,  and  the  very  failure 
of  some  of  the  investigating  men  to  come  back 
again  argued  in  the  nervous  minds  the  supernatural 
quality  of  the  gruesome  sounds. 

A  young  wife  deposed  that  at  noon,  when  rock- 
ing her  sickly  babe  in  its  cradle,  suddenly  from  the 
cradle  came  the  sad  bird's  cry  of  grief.  That  night 
the  child  died. 

An  old  woman,  long  bedridden,  awoke  in  the  night, 
and  in  the  far-off  hill  saw  a  fitful  "death  light,"  as 
she  termed  it,  from  which  the  distressing  cry  floated 
over  to  her  with  dreadful  warning.  When  she  had 
power  to  call  some  one  to  her  bedside,  the  light  had 
disappeared  and  the  usual  darkness  of  the  hills  at 


282  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

midnight  reigned  in  its  stead,  while  no  longer  came 
the  cry  of  the  bird  in  trouble. 

Every  one  heard  the  cry,  and  Wetzel  had  fifty, 
stories  told  him  in  as  many  minutes,  and  all  tend- 
ing to  the  supernatural.  Some  of  the  younger 
women  grew  hysterical  in  their  recitals,  and  asked 
him  what  he  knew  about  witchcraft. 

So  the  scout  spent  day  after  day  making  inquiries 
about  the  mysterious  cry,  and  listening  with  all 
avidity  to  the  many  stories  concerning  it.  Not  that 
he  doubted  he  knew  the  full  meaning  of  the  sad 
cries,  but  a  higher  principle  than  mere  curiosity 
prompted  him. 

With  long  strides  he  left  the  fort,  and  sought  the 
hills  one  day  in  the  midst  of  the  narration  of  a  new 
story.  Night  came  down  upon  him,  and  he  sought 
a  tree,  climbed  it,  and  in  a  crotch  of  it  passed  the 
night. 

All  night  long,  at  intervals,  came  the  plaintive 
cries ;  now  far  off  and  faint,  again  at  his  very  feet, 
all  about  him. 

He  even  heard  the  brush  beneath  him  agitated  as 
though  by  the  passage  of  some  mysterious  agent. 

The  cries,  too,  seemed  to  hush  the  snarling 
hunger-moans  of  the  wolf  and  coyote,  and,  borne 
upon  the  wind,  it  alone  reached  his  ears  insufferably 
sad  and   gruesome.    Then  would   come   the  soft 


TBE  TURKEY-CRY.  283 

rustling  of  the  bushes  beneath  him,  and,  though  he 
strained  his  eyes  and  peered  down  around  him,  he 
could  make  out  nothing.  At  last  the  moon  came 
out  and  silvered  a  track  across  the  brush.  Through 
this  track,  which  he  watched  with  keen  scrutii^y, 
once  in  the  heart  of  the  night  he  saw  a  dark  body 
of  many  links,  or  a  chain  of  bodies,  pass  noiselessly 
up  towards  the  crest  of  the  hill  before  him,  the  cries 
seeming  to  float  about  the  path  of  silver,  and  down 
to  the  habitations  of  the  pioneers  at  Wheeling. 
Turning  his  eyes  towards  the  white  settlement,  he 
could  see  lights  moving  about  in  the  houses,  as  the 
worried  people,  unable  to  sleep,  wandered  here  and 
there  seeking  an  answer  to  the  cries. 

"  I  am  glad  my  mother's  husband  is  more  practi- 
cal," he  said. 

At  the  first  break  of  day  the  sounds  had  ceased, 
and  he  descended  from  his  perch  and  reconnoitered 
the  brush  beneath.  Yes,  the  place  was  trodden  here 
and  there.  He  got  down  on  his  knees  and  exam- 
ined the  crushed  grass. 

"  It  is  as  I  suspected,"  he  said. 

He  followed  these  marks  in  the  wounded  brush, 
and  they  took  him  high  above  the  level.  He 
mounted  to  at  least  sixty  feet  above  the  w^ater  on 
the  east  side  of  Creek  Hill,  and  there  the  marks 
ended.    Here  he  found  the  moutlx  of  a  capacious 


284  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

cavern,  running  he  knew  not  how  far  underground, 
the  entrance  ahnost  completely  obscured  by  a  heavy 
growth  of  vines  and  foliage. 

In  the  very  heart  of  this  wild  growth  he  ensconced 
himself,  pulling  the  leaves  all  about  liim,  and  en- 
tirely burying  himself,  and  here  he  waited. 

He  waited  all  the  morning  and  ascertained 
nothing.  Once  he  thought  the  vines  were  shaken 
as  though  somebody  or  something  issued  from  the 
cavern's  mouth,  but  he  was  hidden  and  could  see 
little  that  was  beneath  a  man's  stature  that  might 
go  from  or  into  the  cave.     And  there  was  no  sound. 

All  the  afternoon  he  waited  there,  with  his  old 
tireless  vigilance,  which  was  never  exerted  but  for 
the  one  reason — to  hunt  his  hated  foes.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  a  high,  shrill  turke3^-cry  cleaved  the 
silence,  then  another,  and  another,  till  it  seemed 
that  a  whole  brood  of  birds  were  in  the  direst  agony. 

The  cries  came  from  the  cavern!  Cautiously 
raising  his  body  until  his  head  was  on  a  line  with 
the  tallest  grass,  and  he  could  see  about  him,  he 
looked  towards  the  cavern.  But  all  was  motionless 
there,  the  heavy  bushes  before  the  entrance  were 
moveless  in  the  stilly  air.  Still  he  kept  his  eyes 
fixed  on  the  spot,  assured  that  he  had  not  fixed  on 
that  place  in  vain. 

He  was  rewarded  for  his  patience. 


THE  TURKEY-CRY.  285 

Presently  the  tangled  vines  at  the  mouth  of  the 
cave  were  agitated  a  little.  What  was  coming 
forth — a  gruesome  object  to  strike  terror  to  the  heart 
of  the  human  watcher  ? 

"  I  never  feared  live  devils ;  I  never  intend  to  fear 
dead  ones,"  said  this  watcher,  who  watched  and 
waited. 

The  vines  became  still  again.  Then  they  were 
agitated  once  more,  and  from  amidst  their  green 
leaves  reached  forth  a  human  hand. 

"  Not  a  dead  devil,"  commented  the  faithful 
watcher. 

Directly  after  the  hand  had  appeared  and  thrust 
aside  the  many  vines,  another  sort  of  flower  took 
its  place,  for  the  twisted  tuft  of  an  Indian  warrior 
slowly  arose  in  the  mouth  of  the  cavern,  and  below 
that  a  villainous  face  daubed  with  war-paint  looked 
cautiously  about,  to  right  and  left.  Then,  twisting 
his  mouth  into  a  long  horn-like  shape,  the  red-skin 
sent  forth  the  shrill,  prolonged,  and  peculiarly 
distressing,  moaning  cry,  and  immediately  after- 
wards disappeared,  as  though  he  had  indeed  been 
endowed  with  spiritual  power  to  appear  and  dis- 
appear instantaneously. 

"  No,  not  a  dead  devil,"  said  the  watcher,  almost 
positive  that  in  that  cavern  he  had  detected,  in  the 
momentary  glance  he  had  had  of  it,  the  dead  body 


286  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

of  a  white  settler — doubtless  one  of  those  who  had 
recently  come  here  to  investigate  the  nature  of  the 
supernatural  phenomenon. 

This,  then,  alone,  was  the  lure  which  had  proved 
so  fatal  to  those  who  had  come  to  ascertain  its 
import.  From  that  point  so  elevated  the  concealed 
savage  had  long  commanded  an  extensive  view  of 
the  surrounding  country,  and  more  especially  of  the 
hill-front  upon  the  opposite  side,  and  the  incautious 
soldier  or  embarrassed  settler  coming  straight  down 
towards  the  river,  looking  out  first  one  way  then 
the  other  for  the  struggling  bird,  quickly  met  his 
death. 

Lewis  "Wetzel  had  suspected  the  truth,  his  long 
and  intimate  study  and  hatred  had  inducted  him 
into  many  secrets  not  well  known  by  the  m^ore 
peaceful  and  kindly-intentioned  people  around. 
He  recollected  the  wolf-cries  around  his  father's 
cabin  years  ago — he  recollected  the  bear  in  the 
bushes  beside  his  father's  cabin  ! 

Even  now,  after  the  Indian's  head  had  disappeared, 
Wetzel  looked  towards  the  side  country,  and  saw  a 
little  party  of  three  or  four  white  men  coming  on 
gazing  into  the  bushes  and  searching. 

The  silence,  around  his  height  from  the  level, 
enabled  him  to  hear  almost  every  T^ord  the  men  on 
the  opposite  declivity  said. 


THE  TURKEY-CBT.  287 

"  It  was  around  here,"  said  one. 

"  Do  you  think  it  was  a  bird,  or  a  spirit  ?"  asked 
another. 

"No  doubt  of  it,"  responded  the  first  speat:er, 
*'  that  it  is  a  spirit." 

"  That  must  be  my  mother's  husband,"  said  Lewis 
Wetzel  grimly.  "My  father  would  never  have 
spoken  thus." 

"  But  if  I  had  thought  it  was  a  spirit  I  would  not 
have  come  after  it  with  a  rifle,"  said  the  third  of  the 
little  party,  speaking  now  for  the  first  time, — "  nor 
had  I  thought  it  was  a  turkey,  either.  My  son  is  not 
an  Indian  murderer,  but  this  is  an  Indian  ruse!" 

"  Your  son !  You  mean  Lewis  Wetzel  ?"  inquired 
one  of  them. 

"  Yes,  my  son.  Did  I  not  marry  John  Wetzel's 
widow — their  mother?" 

AVetzel  turned  his  attention  towards  the  mouth  of 
the  cavern  determinedly,  his  gun  cocked,  anxiously 
waiting. 

He  had  not  long  to  wait. 

Up  rose  from  the  tangled  mass  of  pretty  vines  the 
barrel  of  a  gun,  then  the  tufted  head  of  the  red-skin. 
And  then  again,  and  for  the  last  time,  the  sad  note 
thath^d  created  such  consternation  sounded  through 
the  air — for  the  last  time,  for,  unseen  and  taking  a 
fine  aim  at  the  polished  head,  Wetzel  had  raised  his 
rifle  to  his  shoulder. 


288  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

There  was  a  sharp,  quick  report,  as  the  Indian 
raised  his  own  gun  at  the  three  men  below,  a  curl 
of  pale  smoke,  and  the  turkey-cry  was  silenced 
forever. 

"  A  dead  devil,"  said  Wetzel,  as  the  strained  vines 
sprang  back  over  the  form  that  fell  in  their  midst. 

Standing  upright,  and  looking  down  towards  the 
opposite  hills,  he  saw  the  hurrying  forms  of  the 
three  men  coming  his  way. 

"  It  was  a  rifle-shot,"  said  the  foremost  of  the 
three,  "  and  it  surely  means  something." 

"Might  it  not  be  a  decoy  to  get  us  up  there?" 
asked  the  more  prudential  one,  pausing  for  a 
second — the  man  who  claimed  the  scout  for  a  son. 

Then  all  three  paused. 

"  Even  if  it  is,  though,"  went  on  the  last  speaker, 
"  we  might  as  well  look  into  it.  Have  we  all  got  our 
knives?  Had  you  taken  my  advice  when  we  started 
out  you  would  have  brought  your  rifles.  But,  no, 
you  were  all  so  positive  that  the  whole  proceeding 
was  supernatural." 

"  We  have  not  found  out  yet  what  it  is,"  answered 
one  of  the  two. 

"  Only  worldly  powder  makes  the  blue  ring  we 
saw  up  yonder.  Decoy  or  no  decoy,  come  on,  if  you 
are  not  afraid  I" 

They  then  plunged  forward. 


THE  TURKEY-CRY,  289 

"He  is  no  coward,"  muttered  the  man  on  the 
opposite  hill,  standing  out  from  the  furze,  and  delib- 
erating what  he  should  do  next. 

He  turned  and  rapidly  beat  down  the  vines  that 
choked  the  entrance  to  the  cave,  so  that  the  body  of 
the  slain  Indian  was  exposed  to  full  view.  And 
what  his  slight  glimpse  into  the  cave  in  the  first 
instance  had  suggested  to  him  was  verified — for  the 
body  of  a  settler  lay  a  yard  from  that  of  the  Indian. 

"  They  will  understand,"  said  Wetzel,  looking 
vindictively  on  the  fallen  red-skin. 

He  turned  his  ej^es  upon  the  approaching  white 
men.  Again  he  hesitated,  went  a  little  way,  then 
returned. 

"  Can  I,  or  can  I  not  ?"  he  asked  himself. 

He  could  see  the  husband  of  John  Wetzel's  widow 
breaking  his  way  through  the  obstructing  stubble, 
a  manly  looking  man,  the  only  wonder  being  what 
he  had  seen  to  admire  in  the  weak  and  peevish 
wife. 

"Never  mind,"  communed  the  scout  with  him- 
self. "  I  do  not  know  him — I  cannot  know  him. 
He  may  not  be  a  coward,  but  he  cannot  take  the 
place  of  my  father — with  me.  But  my  mother 
shall  not  be  a  widow  at  the  hands  of  the  red-skins 
a  second  time.     Poor  mother!" 

Grasping  his  rifle,  and  casting  an  envious  glance 
25 


290  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

towards  the  yet  intact  scalp  of  the  originator  of  the 
turkey-cries,  he  plunged  through  the  long  grass, 
seeking  a  place  in  which  to  hide  from  the  approach- 
ing strangers,  more  especially  the  one  man ;  and 
at  last,  when  their  voices  came  nearer  to  him,  he 
hid  in  the  grass,  and  saw  three  men  laboriously 
mounting  the  hill  to  the  cavern. 

He  saw  them  start  when  they  saw  the  Indian. 

"  This  explains  it  all,"  he  heard  one  of  them  say. 

"  But  who  fired  the  shot  ?"  asked  the  second  man. 

The  third  man  was  busily  turning  over  the  dead 
Indian.  He  now  raised  something  aloft  in  the  air, 
between  his  thumb  and  finger. 

"  Here  is  one  of  Lewis  Wetzel's  bullets,"  he  said. 
"  It  went  straight  through  the  red-skin's  head." 

Wetzel,  hearing  this,  struck  off,  and  made  his  way 
out  without  discovery.  He  had  saved  the  life  of  his 
mother's  husband,  as  he  had  tried  to  do.  More  than 
that  he  had  not  intended.  Yet  in  saving  the  life  of 
the  second  husband  he  had  once  more  avenged  the 
death  of  the  first.  This  idea  crossed  his  mind  as  he 
hurried  away. 

"  How  strange  that  chance  should  make  me  the 
instrument  in  this  instance,"  he  said.  "  Why  should 
I  not  let  the  men  who  murdered  my  father  keep  his 
place  sacred  by  removing  the  usurper  of  it  ?  Why 
should  I  strive  to  help  my  mother  to  forget  her  loss, 


THE  TURKEY-CRY.  291 

and  every  day  see  in  the  new  husband  traits  of 
excellence  the  dead  one  never  possessed?  It  must 
be  because  my  father  loved  my  mother  and  toiled 
for  her  happiness — he  would  not  like  her  to  be 
distressed  and  dreary.  Ah,  well!  let  her  be  happy 
with  her  husband — if  she  can.  As  for  me — I  have 
my  duty  to  perform,  and  I  must  be  a  stranger  to  all 
else." 

It  is  said  that  he  never  saw  his  mother's  second 
husband  after  that. 


292  LEWIS  WETZEL. 


CHAPTEE  XV. 

A   CHANCE   FOR   AN   ARREST. 

"DUT  General  Harmar's  pursuit  of  Wetzel  for  the 
killing  of  the  Indian  had  in  no  wise  ceased, 
although  the  scout  had  long  since  dropped  out  of 
his  mind  any  concern  of  the  matter. 

The  officers  under  Harmar  had  standing  orders  to 
arrest  "  the  murderer  of  the  pacific  Indian"  when- 
ever and  wherever  they  might  find  him. 

It  was  even  suggested  that  a  reward  be  offered  for 
the  arrest,  but  to  this  the  commandant  turned  a 
deaf  ear;  he  knew  too  well  that  a  reward  would 
only  make  the  settlers  more  indignant  and  more 
persevering  to  thwart  justice;  while  secrecy  would 
eventually  throw  the  game  into  his  hands,  and  the 
excitement  aroused  by  the  arrest  Would  be  mote  of 
a  negative  than  a  positive  order. 

It  would  appear  now  that  Wetzel,  after  his  taking 
it  in  his  own  hands  to  put  a  stop  to  the  turke3^-cries, 
went  leisurely  down  the  Ohio  River  towards  the 
Kanawha. 

Here  he   roved  about  for  a  little  while  in  the 


A  CHANCE  FOR  AN  ARREST.  293 

fastnesses  of  his  beloved  woods.  Apropos  of  this 
love  of  the  woods,  he  is  reported  to  have  once  said, 
"  I  cannot  breathe  in  the  open  air.  I  require  the 
leaves  of  trees  to  break  and  filter  it  before  it  enters 
my  lungs." 

As  he  went  along  one  day,  he  met  a  white  man, 
who  eyed  him. 

"  Are  you  Lewis  Wetzel  ?"  inquired  the  stranger. 

"  That  is  my  name,"  replied  the  scout. 

The  stranger  turned  on  his  heel  and  abruptly  left 
him.  The  scout  gazed  after  him,  hailed  him,  but 
received  no  reply  whatever,  the  stranger  only 
hurrying  the  faster  when  he  heard  the  detaining 
voice  back  of  him.  This  man  traveled  day  and 
night  till  he  came  to  the  station  of  the  military. 
He  informed  them  of  Wetzel's  vicinity,  instructed 
them  how  to  get  there,  and  then  asked  for  the 
reward. 

He  was  told  there  was  none,  and  was  ignomin- 
iously  hustled  from  the  camp  by  the  troops  who 
despised  the  cowardly  informer,  as  much  as  they 
desired  to  capture  the  scout — for  it  was  mortifying 
that  a  single  man  should  thwart  the  vigilance  of 
the  entire  army.  Yet  for  all  the  information,  they 
did  not  know  where,  exactly,  to  place  hands  on  the 
scout;  for  he  might  be  here  to-day,  but  not  even 
himself  could  tell  where  to-morrow  would  find  him. 


294  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Wetzel,  in  the  meantime,  had  taken  to  the  Ohio 
again,  and  floated  leisurely  down,  often  for  days  at  a 
time  lying  on  the  broad  of  his  back,  letting  the  boat 
go  v/hither  it  would,  and  gazing  up  to  the  clouds 
which  were  always  a  wonder  to  him. 

At  last,  one  day,  he  sighted  Point  Pleasant,  and 
landed  there. 

Following  his  usual  humor  when  he  had  no 
Indians  to  engage  his  deadly  attention,  he  ranged 
the  little  town  for  a  few  days,  looking  at  the  sights 
and  filled  with  admiration. 

His  old  friends,  dogs  and  little  children,  used  to 
tag  around  at  his  heels,  and  in  a  few  days  he  was 
well  known,  and  people  used  to  stop  and  gaze  after 
the  wild-looking  man  with  a  string  of  animals  and 
boys  and  girls  following  happily  in  his  footsteps. 

"  A  strange  man,"  they  would  say. 

It  is  related  of  him  that  a  woman  w^ith  a  sick 
child  cried  aloud  in  the  night  that  she  was  all  alone 
and  that  her  child  was  dying 

Wetzel,  passing  along  outside,  called  up  to  the 
window  that  if  she  wanted  assistance  to  say  so.  She 
wanted  the  doctor,  and  there  was  no  one  to  go  for 
him.  The  scout  brought  the  doctor,  and  stayed 
besides  and  quieted  the  child  all  night,  making  the 
mother  go  and  lie  down  and  get  some  rest.  Men 
hearing  of  it  smiled  and  thought  "  a  screw  is  loose 
in  him."    Women  thought  it  brave  in  him. 


A  CHANCE  FOB  AN  ARREST.  295 

"  He  is  a  hero !"  said  a  pale  little  school-mistress 
who  had  braved  everything  and  come  out  here  to 
^ establish  a  hall  of  learning;  "he  is  a  hero!  I  am 
neither  pretty  nor  attractive,  and  yet  the  man  never 
meets  me  with  a  pail  of  water  but  he  takes  it  from 
me  without  a  word  and  carries  it  for  me.  I  require 
heaps  of  water,  and,  oddly  enough,  I  always  go  to 
tlrc  stream  about  the  time  he  comes  along." 

"  You  never  used  so  much  water  before  he  came," 
said  a  woman  friend,  cynically. 

"No.  Isn't  it  odd?"  returned  the  little  school- 
mistress, with  the  ghost  of  a  bloom  in  her  thin 
cheeks. 

"Very  odd,"  said  her  friend,  who  had  not  the 
heart  to  go  any  further  into  the  new  demand  for 
water.  So  women  thought  of  him — the  frailer  the 
woman,  the  stronger  her  admiration  for  manly 
strength. 

He  whittled  toys  for  the  children,  made  them  bows 
and  arrows,  and  often  he  had  a  row  of  urchins  sur- 
rounding and  hemming  him  in,  as  he  worked  and 
listened  tenderly  to  their  prattle.  They  would  ask 
him  if  he  had  any  little  children  of  his  own ;  and 
if  he  had  ever  been  a  little  child  like  them ;  and  if 
he  would  not  like  to  be  as  they  were;  and  if  when 
big  rnen  like  he  died  they  went  up  to  the  stars  and 
were  taught  to  be  happy,  just  as  little  children  who 


296  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

died  were?  They  would  seem  to  pity  him,  and 
fondled  him  caressingly.  They  climbed  over  him, 
pulled  and  platted  his  hair,  and  committed  all  the 
reckless  depredations  of  young  children. 

And  he  was  a  man  whose  hands  were  deeply 
imbrued  in  human  blood  ! 

Was  he  a  guilty  man  ?  He  could  not  have  been 
the  harsh  man  that  some  of  his  detractors  have 
declared  him.  Here,  too,  he  did  chores  for  the 
women — mended  their  broken  furniture,  fixed  a 
gate,  even  patched  shoes,  for  so  had  he  learned  to 
be  of  use  on  all  occasions. 

Yet  it  was  not  for  long  that  he  remained,  here  or 
at  any  place,  no  matter  how  frequent  might  be  his 
visits ;  for,  always  restless  and  ill  at  ease,  he  might 
retire  at  night  promising  all  manner  of  things 
for  the  morrow ;  but  in  the  morning,  before  his 
entertainers  were  awake,  he  would  be  gone ;  and  no 
matter  how  much  the  children  might  cry,  they 
might  not  see  him  again  for  months,  though  the 
possibility  existed  that  it  might  be  but  weeks — no 
one  could  tell  when.  "A  strange  man,"  was  the 
verdict  as  usual. 

Lieutenant  Kingsbury,  attached  to  General  Har- 
mar's  command,  happened  to  be  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Kanawha  at  the  time  of  one  of  Wetzel's 
periodical  visits,  and,  while    scouting    about,  ran 


A  CHANCE  FOE  AN  ARREST.  297 

against  the  scout  one  day  while  the  latter  was 
carrying  a  child  across  a  muddy  puddle. 

Wetzel  saw  Kingsbury  first,  before  the  latter 
recognized  the  approaching  man,  and  guessed  at  an 
arrest.  He  kissed  the  little  child  in  his  arms,  and 
gently  set  it  down  on  the  ground.    " 

"  There,"  he  said,  "  now  run  away,  little  one,  run 
home  to  mother,  and  wait  till  I  come  back  with  my 
big  pocket  full  of  nice  nuts.  Eun  fast,  now ;  let  me 
see  how  fast  you  can  run." 

The  child  took  to  its  heels,  and  soon  ran  out  of 
danger,  its  innocent  laugh  becoming  fainter  and 
fainter  as  it  went  further  away.  Wetzel  then  turned 
to  Lieutenant  Kingsbury  (who  had  halted  likewise), 
silently  leaving  it  to  the  lieutenant  to  decide  on  the 
mode  of  procedure,  feeling  himself  prepared  and 
ready  for  whatever  might  happen,  but  as  resolved 
as  ever  that  he  did  not  deserve  hanging. 

He  could  not  have  been  detained  by  a  better  man  ; 
for  Kingsbury  was  too  brave  a  man  himself  to  enter- 
tain anything  but  good  feeling  towards  a  spirit  like 
Wetzel's,  and  would  not  attempt  to  injure  him,  even 
if  it  were  safe  to  do  so. 

He  turned  frowning  to  the  scout. 

"Why  are  you  always  getting  yourself  in  danger?" 
he  asked  sternly. 

"  Am  I  in  danger  now  ?"*  asked  Wetzel. 


298  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

"Look  here,"  said  the  lieutenant  argumenta- 
tively,  "why  are  you  making  me  disobey  orders? 
I  deserve  court-martialing,  do  you  know  that?  If 
I  were  anybody  but  myself  I  should  call  myself  a 
coward.  I  never  saw  a  fellow  like  you ;  you  won't 
give  peaceably-inclined  people  a  chance  to  rest. 
You  know  very  well  that  the  orders  of  General 
Harmar  are  stringent,  and  that  he  is  a  disciplina- 
rian. And  you  have  no  right  to  upset  all  his  plans, 
as  you  have  done  for  a  long  time.  Pshaw,  Wetzel, 
I  am  almost  ashamed  of  you !  If  I  were  you  I'd 
turn  monk,  and  quit  the  world.  It  would  be  a  great 
benefit  to — the  Indians.  Is  there  an  Indian  monas- 
tery anywhere  around?  Go  there!  Why  are  you 
always  in  danger?'* 

"  Am  I  in  danger  now,"  asked  Wetzel  in  return 
for  this  harangue. 

"You  know  you  are.  Are  there  not  standing 
orders  to  arrest  you  ?" 

"Do  you  intend  to  do  it?" 

"Would  you  have  me  held  for  dereliction  of 
duty?" 

"  Does  your  duty  begin  and  end  in  General  Har- 
mar's  orders  ?" 

Frowning  like  a  thunder-gust.  Lieutenant  Kings- 
bury ended  this  conversation,  which  had  been  a 
mass  of  interrogations  from  first  to  last,  by  saying 


A  CHANCE  FOB  AN  ARREST.  299 

merely,  "get  out  of  my  sight,  Indian  killer,"  and 
brushed  past  the  man  he  should  have  taken  had  he 
felt  that  his  duty  lay  entirely  in  the  standing  order 
of  his  superior  officer. 

Wetzel  turned  away,  too,  and  perhaps  as  much  to 
save  the  brave  lieutenant  any  further  awkwardness 
as  to  preserve  his  own  equanimity,  went  directly  to 
the  bank  of  the  river  where  his  canoe  was  fastened, 
pulled  up  the  stake,  got  into  the  frail  bark,  and 
paddled  off  in  the  direction  of  Limestone,  which  he 
had  long  intended  to  visit. 


800  LEWIS  WETZEL. 


CHAPTER  XYL 

THE   INDIAN   GIRL. 

A  T  Limestone  and  Washington,  the  county  town, 
Wetzel  now  establislied  his  headquarters. 

Here  he  took  part  in  hunting-parties,  and  showed 
the  wonderful  dexterity  he  had  acquired  with  his 
gun.  He  helped  in  the  fields  of  grain,  and  in  the 
forest  felled  and  sawed  the  wood  for  winter  firesides 
that  would  never  warm  him. 

He  also  went  out  with  other  scouts  in  search  of 
predatory  Indians. 

While  many  of  the  scouts  took  the  Indians  indis- 
criminately, Wetzel  deprecated  the  making  captive 
of  women. 

"  Not  a  woman,"  he  would  say,  "  for  our  mothers 
are  women !" 

"  Our  fathers  are  men,  too,"  was  the  argument 
held  out  to  him. 

"  And  as  men,  can  defend  themselves,"  he  replied. 
"  But  men  to  attack  and  capture  women  1  That  is 
not  for  me — for  you." 

So    many  a    squaw    owed    her    impunity    from 


THE  INDIAN  GIRL.  SOI 

capture  and  harsh  treatment  to  the  man  who  would 
gladly  have  killed  her  male  relatives  before  her  very 
eyes  while  shielding  her  from  any  harm  whatever. 

There  was  one  squaw,  a  young  girl  of  fifteen, 
bright-eyed  and  winsome,  who,  witnessing  the  shoot- 
ing of  her  three  brothers  and  her  father,  was  taken 
prisoner  by  a  party  of  whites  and  brought  into  the 
camp  in  the  woods  where  the  scouts  were  assembled. 

Some  of  the  younger  men  complimented  the  girl 
on  her  prepossessing  appearance,  and  she  turned 
away,  abashed  at  their  rude  and  openly-expressed 
admiration. 

"Let  us  make  a  vivandiere  of  her,  such  as  the 
French  have,"  suggested  a  careless  young  fellow. 

"  Let  the  girl  go,"  commanded  a  stern  voice. 

"  Who  spoke  in  that  tone  ?"  demanded  the  young 
fellow,  leaping  to  his  feet  in  anger. 

Wetzel  came  to  him  and  put  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder : 

"  I  spoke,  lad,"  he  said.  "'  The  girl  must  go.  Have 
you  sisters  ?  If  you  have,  think  of  their  position  in 
an  Indian  camp." 

"  Their  position  in  such  a  place  should  make  me 
detain  this  girl  from  revenge." 

"  It  should  make  you  liberate  her  for  very  pity," 

said  the  scout  quietly,  going  over  to  the  girl  who 

looked  on  open-eyed. 
26 


302  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Go,  child,"  he  said,  "  your  people's  camp  is  wait- 
ing for  you." 

She  buried  her  face  in  her  hands  and  broke  into 
piteous  weeping,  nor  could  she  be  quieted  for  a  long 
time,  the  men  gathering  around  her  in  perturbation, 
and  lost  in  sympathy,  where  a  few  minutes  ago  they 
had  been  cruel  and  callous. 

When  at  last  she  dried  her  tears,  she  peeped 
through  her  fingers  at  the  men.  Then  she  smiled, 
showing  her  beautiful  teeth. 

Then  she  threw  her  hands  from  her  face,  and 
radiant  and  her  eyes  sparkling  like  stars  from  very 
happiness,  she  ran  and  caught  Wetzel's  hand  in  both 
of  hers,  and  covered  it  with  kisses,  and  stood  silently 
beside  him,  looking  earnestly  in  his  face. 

And  here  a  new  difficulty  arose:  she  refused  to  be 
separated  from  the  man  who  had  given  her  freedom. 

"  Indian  girl  got  no  father,  no  brothers ;  she  like 
white  brave ;  she  go  with  him." 

"  But  the  white  brave  cannot  take  you,"  said  Wet- 
zel kindly,  as  he  spoke  to  all  children. 

"  Pooh !"  said  the  Indian  girl  with  sovereign  con- 
tempt; "  Indian  girl  don't  want  to  be  took' — she  take 
herself.  She  know  every  path;  she  follow  after 
white  brave." 

She  came  calmly  and  placed  her  hand  in  Wet- 
zel's. 


THE  INDIAN  GIRL.  303 

"  But  what  am  I  to  do  with  her?"  asked  the  scout 
in  despair. 

The  other  men  enjoyed  the  situation. 

At  length  he  took  the  girl  with  him,  and  they 
wandered  through  the  forest  till  they  came  in  sight 
of  an  encampment  of  some  of  her  people.  Then, 
pretending  that  he  desired  a  parley  with  them,  he 
prevailed  upon  her  to  go  before  him  as  an  ambassa- 
dress of  the  mission. 

She  sprang  lightly  forward,  glad  to  do  his  behest ; 
and  when  he  saw  her  safe  within  the  line  of  Indian 
pickets,  he  dived  through  the  brush  and  made  for 
foreign  parts. 

In  the  camp  that  night,  however,  the  girl  presented 
herself  again. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  with  her  ?"  asked  one  of  the 
young  men  derisively. 

Wetzel  said : 

"  Do  you  think  this  girl  was  allowed  to  come 
because  she  wanted  to  ?  She  is  either  a  decoy,  or 
else  her  people  cast  her  off,  now  that  her  father  and 
brothers  are  no  more." 

"  Her  people  cast  her  off  because  she  loves  a  white 
man,"  said  a  voice  out  of  the  darkness,  and  the 
crack  of  an  Indian  rifle  was  heard,  and  the  girl 
with  a  moan  fell  lifeless  at  the  veTy  feet  of  Wetzel. 

Whether  the  bullet  had  been  intended  for  the 
Bcout  or  her  could  only  be  guessed  at 


304  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

But  the  camp  was  in  an  uproar,  and  the  men  filed 
off,  seeking  for  the  murderer. 

The  search  was  unavailing,  and  hy  midnight  the 
party  w^ere  collected  in  camp  once  more,  and  a  grave 
was  dug  for  the  poor  child. 

Wetzel  composed  her  limbs  decently,  and  wrapped 
her  in  his  blanket.  They  laid  her  in  the  gloomy, 
narrow  trench  they  had  dug,  and  the  cry  of  gather- 
ing wolves  was  the  funeral  hymn.  The  men  pre- 
pared to  throw  on  the  earth,  when  Wetzel  stopped 
them. 

"We  commit  this  body  to  the  earth  from  whence 
it  came,"  he  said  in  a  low  voice.  "  And  as  from  the 
earth  spring  up  flowers  and  healthful  things  for 
man's  life,  so  may  this  immortal  soul  arise  to  the 
seat  of  mercy,  a  flower,  a  fruit  in  the  sight  of  God. 
Amen!" 

Then  he  motioned  for  the  men  to  proceed,  and 
soon  the  earth  was  piled  high  upon  the  young  breast 
whose  life  had  been  so  suddenly  cut  ofl*  by  the 
ruthless  bullet  of  one  of  her  own  people. 

The  camp-fire  was  moved  on  to  the  grave  to  pro- 
tect it  from  the  wolves ;  and  piling  wood  on  it,  and 
waiting  until  the  flames  were  high  and  fierce,  the 
party  of  white  men  moved  silently  away  from  the 
spot,  and  made  their  camp  further  off,  and  where 
the  flame  on  the  grave  could  only  be  seen  like  a 
thin  golden  vapor. 


THE  INDIAN  GIRL.  305 

In  the  early  morning  "Wetzel  went  alone  to  the 
grave  and  saw  the  white  ashes  of  what  had  been  a 
fierce  fire  the  night  before.  Long  he  stood  there  lost 
in  contemplation.  Then  he  roused  himself,  and 
looking  furtively  around,  and  finding  no  one  near 
him,  he  went  and  pulled  some  crimson  blossoms, 
that  made  an  adjoining  bush  like  a  living  flame, 
and  threw  them  upon  the  ashes,  until  the  ground 
seemed  carpeted  by  sunset.  The  girl  had  been 
killed  as  he  might  have  killed  his  own  sister  had 
she  chosen  an  Indian  for  her  protector.  What  was 
the  difference?  For  the  first  time  in  his  life  he 
paused  in  asking  himself  the  question — w^hat  was 
the  difference  between  the  soul  of  an  Indian  and  a 
white  man  ? 


308  LEWIS  WETZEL. 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

TRIAL  AND   ACQUITTAL. 

'T^HERE  were  seasons  of  inactivity,  too,  when  the 
scouts  wanted  a  variet}^  of  amusement. 

"Amusement !"  echoed  Wetzel,  to  whom  the  rumors 
of  discontent  in  camp  came  more  than  once,  which 
discontent  he  could  not  comprehend.  "Amuse- 
ment !" 

"  Oh,  it  is  all  very  well  for  you,"  cried  one,  who 
noted  the  intonation  of  his  voice;  "you  never  seem 
to  care  for  anything  but  loneliness  and  Indians.  We 
don't  overly  like  loneliness,  and  we  don't  want  to 
spend  our  entire  lives  in  murder." 

"  Murder !"  was  the  word  echoed  now,  and  other 
scouts  came  between  the  two. 

"Now,  look  here,  Wetzel,"  said  one,  "you  must 
own  yourself  that  you're  not  always  downright  lively 
— your  company  manners  are  not  quite  cheerful. 
What's  the  use  of  going  through  the  world  like  a 
quart  of  blackberries?  AVhy  can't  you  make  one 
of  us,  and  try  to  see  a  little  fun?  Do  you  know 
how  many  times  you  have  laughed  in  your  life  ?" 


TBIAL  AND  ACQUITTAL.  307 

"  I  hope  you  give  me  credit  for  bearing  no  ill-will 
towards  you — towards  any  man  in  the  world?"  said 
Wetzel. 

"  How  about  Indians?"  laughed  his  companion. 

**  Indians  are  fiends." 

"No,  Wetzel,  we  know  you  have  in  you  the 
making  of  a  good  fellow  ;  but  why  don't  you  make 
the  good  fellow  ?  Come,  now,  for  once  in  a  while  see 
if  you  can't  be  happy  with  us." 

"  Happy !" 

"Well,  w^hatever  stands  for  happiness  in  you. 
Will  you  try?" 

"  I  will  do  what  I  can,  friend." 

To  satisfy  and  gratify  the — to  him — careless  souls 
so  bent  on  a  different  line  of  amusement  than  that 
one  which  partook  of  more  perils  than  any  others, 
there  were  shooting-matches,  foot-racing,  and  WTest- 
ling  with  the  hunters,  or  any  chance  comer  who 
desired  to  contest.  The  settlers  heard  of  these 
games,  and  came  in  to  see  them. 

"  Why  don't  Wetzel  try?"  asked  one.  " Can't  he 
do  anything  but  fire  off"  a  gun  ?" 

So  to  please  them  Wetzel  tried  and  conquered. 

His  enormous  strength  found  few  competitors  and 
no  rivals.  His  prowess  with  the  rifle  was  well 
known,  and  hardly  any  would  take  part  against  him 
in  shooting.    His  speed  of  foot  was  marvelous,  and 


308  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

his  endurance  something  that  created  a  species  of 
awe  in  the  hunters,  themselves  no  mean  runners. 
His  wrestling  soon  left  him  without  an  antagonist. 
And  this  was  how  he  contributed  to  their  amuse- 
ment. 

And  thus,  though  he  conquered,  and  conquered  so 
easily,  he  made  no  enemies,  and  those  he  worsted 
most  admired  him  most.  For  once,  when  he  had 
hurt  a  man  in  wrestling  with  him,  he  constituted 
himself  the  man's  nurse,  and  tended  him  assid- 
uously and  carefully  as  a  woman.  He  entered  into 
the  sports  with  no  bragging  tendencies,  and  only 
consented  to  take  part  after  much  pressing  and 
when  a  refusal  would  have  created  ill-feeling.  Such 
a  man  is  bound  to  make  few  enemies.  In  fact,  he 
has  been  represented  by  those  who  knew  him  at  this 
period  as  being  a  general  favorite,  no  less  ^or  his 
personal  qualities  than  for  his  services. 

Now,  constituting  a  part  of  the  amusements,  there 
was  called  a  shooting-match  at  Maysville,  and  after 
long  coaxing  Wetzel  consented  to  take  a  part  in  the 
contest. 

The  day  came  and  brought  its  crowds,  and  the 
competitors  of  the  scout  were  resolved  to  have  their 
revenge. 

But  the  usual  luck  attended  him,  for  he  would 
not  shoot  ill;  he  entered  solemnly  into  everything 


TRIAL  AND  ACQUITTAL.  S09 

he  attempted  and  with  the  full  intention  to  do  his 
best.  The  match  being  so  unequal,  and  finding  at 
what  a  disadvantage  he  placed  his  rivals,  Wetzel  at 
length  offered  to  withdraw. 

The  opposition  to  his  intention  was  not  over- 
poweringly  strong ;  and  waiting  a  little  while  to  look 
on,  so  as  not  again  to  be  accused  of  a  lack  of  conge- 
niality and  good  feeling,  he  slipped  unperceived 
from  the  noisy  party,  and  made  his  way  to  aa 
adjoining  tavern  and  had  a  pot  of  cider  placed 
before  him. 

Into  this  place  others  soon  after  straggled,  for 
when  Wetzel  stopped  shooting  the  interest  to  many 
was  over.  Then  his  rivals  sauntered  in,  discontented 
and  not  overly  pleased  with  the  man  over  there  in 
the  corner  silently  drinking  his  cider  and  paying 
little  or  no  attention  to  any  one. 

''  It  was  the  fault  of  my  powder,"  declared  one. 

"  My  shot  were  too  light,"  said  another. 

"  That  gun  of  mine  has  got  to  be  looked  over," 
cried  a  third. 

" Give  in,  boys," laughed  an  old  man,  "and  blame 
the  right  cause  of  your  failure." 

"You  mean  Wetzel,"  said  two  or  three  at  once, 
looking  darkly  over  towards  his  corner. 

"  I  mean  yourselves,"  laughed  the  old  man. 

All  the  same  they  eyed  Wetzel  grudgingly. 


310  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

In  the  midst  of  the  talk,  which  now  became 
general  and  noivsy,  one  voice  pitted  against  another, 
and  all  against  every  one,  and  Avhen  some  were 
blaming  Wetzel  for  taking  part  at  all  and  so  easily 
putting  them  all  out  of  countenance,  there  came  the 
ring  of  a  sword  pounding  on  the  door  lintel.  There 
entered  a  lieutenant  of  the  regular  army,  who  was 
on  his  way  down  the  Ohio  to  Fort  Washington. 

"  Welcome,  lieutenant,"  cried  some  of  the  men ; 
"  and  here's  to  you !" 

"  Thanks,  thanks,  good  fellows  all,"  responded  the 
lieutenant,  "and  here's  at  yourselves!  I  only 
stopped  because  I  heard  your  loud  voices,  and  I 
knew  there  was  a  chance  here  of  getting  a  generous 
nip  of  real  cider.  I  see  by  indications  that  some  of 
you  have  been  having  sport  of  some  sort." 

"  Only  a  shooting-match,  and  that  wasn't  a  match, 
after  all,"  responded  one  of  the  discomfited  heroes. 

" How  is  that?"  asked  the  new-comer. 

"  Well,  one  of  us  is  too  good  a  shot  for  the  others, 
and  he  won't  shoot  bad  to  please  us." 

The  lieutenant  laughed. 

"You  could  hardly  expect  him  to  come  down 
from  the  pedestal,"  he  said.  "  I  am  only  sorry  that 
I  came  too  late  to  be  a  witness  of  all  this.  Can't  wo 
lijjve  a  little  match  now?" 

"  Not  if  Wetzel  takes  part,"  replied  the  man. 


TBIAL  AND  ACQUITTAL.  311 

"  Wetzel !"  repeated  the  lieutenant.  "  So  lie  was 
the  champion  ?  No  wonder  you  were  all  beaten.  I 
have  heard  of  him." 

"  Oh,  you've  heard  of  him?  I  hope  a  good  many 
have  iicard  of  him  ?" 

"Tell  us  something  new," cried  the  same  old  man 
who  had  once  before  spoken.  "  You're  sure  you've 
hoard  of  Wetzel,  eh?" 

The  lieutenant  laughed  good-humorcdly,and  paid 
for  a  stoup  of  cider  ail  around. 

"  Won't  the  man  in  the  corner  have  some?'Mie 
asked,  nodding  his  head  in  that  direction. 

'•'  If  the  man  in  the  corner  wants  some,  the  man  in 
the  corner  can  say  so,"  returned  a  discomfited  hero, 
not  quite  over  his  bad  shot. 

But  the  man  in  the  corner  did  not  say  so,  and  the 
others  drank  their  cider  without  his  company. 

The  lieutenant  ordered  a  little  more,  looking  over 
to  the  man  in  the  corner,  anxious  that  he  should 
drink.  Then  the  lieutenant  paid  the  reckoning,  and 
moved  towards  the  door. 

"  Well,  as  we  cannot  have  a  match,  I'll  go  down 
to  my  boat.     Good-day  to  you  !" 

"  Stay  a  little  longer,  lieutenant ;  maybe  we'll  get 
up  the  match.    Only  wait  awhile." 

But  the  lieutenant  had  hurried  out. 

"  What  made  him  act  so  strangely  ?'* 


312  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  He  was  afraid  of  Wetzel,"  said  one ;  "  did  you 
see  how  he  eyed  him  ?" 

"  More  likely  he  was  afraid  of  being  asked  to  pay 
for  more  cider  for  us." 

"  Not  troubled  with  politeness,  anyhow ;  he  didn't 
even  tell  us  his  name." 

But  Lieutenant  Lawler  had  hurried  down  to  his 
boat. 

"  A  file  of  men  immediately !"  he  cried. 

The  men  came  to  shore  with  all  speed. 

"  To  the  tavern,"  he  ordered,  "  and  seize  the  man 
Wetzel  there.  Go  hurriedly,  seize  him  at  once,  and 
hurry  him  down  to  the  boat,  before  there  is  a 
chance  of  an  interference.  We  must  take  him  by 
surprise." 

They  went  forward,  and  reached  the  tavern. 

"That  is  your  man,"  cried  Lieutenant  Lawler, 
indicating  Wetzel,  who  was  sitting  at  a  table  in  the 
corner,  playing  a  game  of  checkers  with  his  host's 
little  son. 

The  company  in  the  room,  taken  by  the  surprising 
boldness  of  the  proceeding,  gazed  on  with  open- 
mouthed  wonder. 

A  party  of  the  soldiers  rushed  upon  the  scout, 
pinioned  his  arms,  hustled  him  from  the  tavern,  and 
ran  him  down  to  the  boat  and  pushed  from  shore 
before  those  left  behind  in  the  tavern  had  recovered 
from  their  astonishment. 


TRIAL  AND  ACQUITTAL.  313 

It  Tvas  only  when  the  boat  was  far  down  the  river 
that  those  on  board  saw  the  tavern  door  suddenly 
fly  open,  and  a  host  of  wild,  indignant  men  hurry 
down  to  the  river  side,  gesticulating  and  yelling 
after  the  receding  boat,  and  vowing  vengeance  with 
voices  that  made  those  who  heard  them  involun- 
tarily grasp  their  rifles.  But  a  rescue  was  all  too 
late,  and  the  men  on  the  shore  grew  smaller  and 
more  indistinct  while  the  boat  rowed  on  and  on  with 
its  f^risoner  safely  bound.  - 

That  same  night  Lieutenant  Lawler  delivered 
Wetzel  to  General  Harmar  in  Cincinnati. 

"So,  Wetzel,  we  meet  again,"  said  the  general. 
"  You  will  not  again  have  the  chance  to  reward  my 
clemency  so  vilely.  Your  irons  will  be  doubly 
strong  this  time,  and  you  must  become  used  to  a 
lack  of  exercise." 

There  was  the  trial  and  subsequent  condemnation, 
for  Wetzel  never  denied  shooting  the  Indian  at 
Marietta  ;  he  would  have  disdained  to  do  so. 

"Speak,  Lewis  Wetzel,"  was  said  to  him  during 
the  trial.     "  Are  you  guilty  or  not  guilty  ?" 

Wetzel  folded  his  arms  and  faced  his  accusers. 

"  Guilty  of  what?"  he  asked. 

"  Of  murdering  a  fellow-being  in  cold  blood,  with- 
out provocation." 

"I  killed  an  Indian—that  is  my  crime,"  said 
Wetzel.  27 


314  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Certain  well-disposed  people  clearly  saw  that  it 
was  their  mission  in  life  to  endeavor  to  impress  such 
a  reckless  man  with  the  true  meaning  of  murder. 
These  came  to  him  and  talked  to  him,  and  left  with 
the  idea  that  if  they  had  not  edified  him,  at  least 
they  had  not  been  unedified  themselves.  They 
spoke  to  him  as  though  they  were  speaking  to  a 
child,  as  so  many  good-intentioned  make  the  mis- 
take of  imagining  that  a  great  criminal  should  not 
be  allowed  to  explain  himself,  but  that  they  should 
explain  themselves,  and  try  to  make  him  understand 
that  he  is  a  most  hardened  wretch  ;  and,  as  the  laws 
of  the  land  grant  him  little  mercy  here,  the  Higher 
Law  can  scarcely  be  expected  to  do  much  for  him 
in  lenient  treatment  hereafter. 

The  criminal  has  his  story  to  tell,  and  that  story 
more  often  than  not  justifies  him  in  the  commission 
of  his  act — in  his  own  e3'es.  The  crime  he  knows, 
as  well  as  do  his  accusers;  but  he  alone  knows  the 
sting  of  the  provocation,  and,  while  the  act  is  a 
stigma,  the  facts  leading  to  it  are  the  excuse.  Crimi- 
nals to  be  made  to  comprehend  that  something 
more  than  man's  law  and  order  have  been  over- 
thrown by  a  flagrant  act,  must  feel  that  eyes  as  be- 
nignant as  those  turned  upon  the  thief  dying  on  the 
cross  are  reading  their  hearts  and  guaging  the  pos- 
sibilities of  their  souls.    For  crime,  in  the  eyes  of  him 


TBIAL  AND  ACQUITTAL,         ,  315 

who  commits  it,  surely  has  not  the  horror  which  it 
holds  for  us  when  we  calm  and  cool  ones  read  of  its 
commission. 

This  will  be  explained  when  we  realize  that  it 
would  have  been  impossible,  in  his  then  frame  of 
mind,  for  Lewis  Wetzel  to  have  seen  murder  in  the 
killing  of  the  Indian  at  Marietta ;  he  could  bring 
evidence  after  evidence,  based  upon  biblical  prece- 
dent, to  place  his  act  within  the  pale  of  Divine  com- 
mandment. 

Judas  was  a  murderer  in  his  sight, — the  basest, 
most  unscrupulous  he  could  imagine, — nothing 
more ;  for  Judas  never  knew  that  he  plotted  the  mur- 
der of  his  Lord — he  would  have  known  that  Divinity 
could  not  suffer  at  the  hands  of  man,  even  if  man 
could  be  so  insane  as  to  imagine  such  a  thing,  which 
Judas  could  not.  Herodias  was  a  murderess,  because 
something  more  than  mere  revenge  for  insult  actu- 
ated her;  her  guilt  cursed  her,  and  made  her  see  in 
murder  mere  retaliation,  not  revenge.  But  Goliath 
had  not  been  murdered,  nor  had  Samson  murdered 
his  tormentors.  Therefore  it  was  a  needless  and 
thankless  task  these  good-intentioned  people  had 
taken  upon  themselves  when  they  tried  to  teach 
him  that  the  killing  of  an  Indian  was  the  act  of  a 
Judas. 

He  was  thought  to  be  hardened  and  lost  to  eon- 


816  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

science — abandoned  to  the  devil  and  his  works.  He 
was  sentenced  to  death  by  hanging. 

But  General  Harmar,  although  well  acquainted 
with  the  routine  of  military  service,  was  somewhat 
destitute  of  the  practical  sense  of  it,  which  is 
always  indispensable  in  frontier  settlements  in 
which  such  severe  measures  as  were  exercised  in 
Wetzel's  case  are  more  likely  to  rouse  the  settlers 
to  revolt  than  to  intimidate  them,  and  he  soon 
found  that  the  country  around  him  was  up  in  arms 
and  determmed  to.  resist  him. 

For  the  story  of  Wetzel's  capture  and  proposed 
punishment  for  the  mere  fault  of  shooting  an 
Indian  had  spread  through  the  various  settlements 
like  wild-fire,  kindling  the  ever  ready  passions  of 
the  frontiermen  to  a  pitch  of  fury.  "  He  shall  never 
die,"  they  said.  "  We  will  rescue  him  or  die  our- 
selves. The  principle  we  laid  down  must  be  main- 
tained. And  after  all  this  time  to  go  and  capture 
the  man !  It  would  appear  that  the  army  has  had 
nothing  to  do  but  plot  to  waylay  one  white  man, 
while  the  ravages  of  the  Indians  are  not  repressed, 
and  peace  is  preached  to  us  who  must  submit,  and 
we  are  told  that  to  disobey  a  soldier  is  to  disobey  the 
law  of  the  land." 

Meetings  were  held,  and  indignant  protests  made. 
People  straggled  in  from  all  sides  "to  see  justice 


TRIAL  AND  ACQUITTAL.  317 

done."  There  was  but  one  voice  in  the  matter — the 
scout  must  go  free.  "  Not  that  he  is  Wetzel,"  they 
persisted  so  in  saying  that  no  one  believed  them, 
"  but  because  our  principle  is  involved.  The  man 
shall  not  hanof.  We  will  see  who  has  the  stronoest 
arm — this  military  man  who  comes  ignorantly 
among  us  and  presumes  to  teach  us  our  duties 
towards  a  miscreant  race  who  murder  and  pillage  us 
with  impunity,  or  we  who  own  the  land  and  who 
have  gained  it  inch  by  inch  from  just  such  foul 
thieves  as  this  savage  that  Wetzel  killed  for  us." 

Petitions  for  the  release  of  Wetzel  came  pouring 
in  upon  General  Harmar  from  all  quarters  and  from 
all  classes  of  society. 

At  first  he  paid  little  or  no  attention  to  them. 

"  They  are  the  protests  of  indignant  friends,"  he 
said, ''  which  are  natural  in  any  case  of  a  criminal 
sentenced  to  death." 

But  it  was  not  Lewis  Wetzel  who  called  forth  all 
of  the  protests  so  much  as  the  principle  involved, 
came  the  after-report. 

If  a  man  was  to  be  hanged  for  killing  an  Indian, 
then  would  society  go  to  the  dogs,  and  no  man's 
property  would  be  assured  to  him  either  by  law  or 
justice.  No,  Wetzel  represented  themselves ;  his  fate 
represented  the  retention  or  the  slipping  away  of 
all  the  property  which  had  become  theirs  by  dint  of 
struggle  and  untold  difficulties. 


318  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

There  was  little  else  thought  of,  little  else  talked 
of.  While  the  settlers  determined  that  Wetzel  should 
not  suffer  for  the  execution  of  an  Indian  thief,  their 
farms  were  probably  more  devastated  by  red-skins 
than  they  ever  had  been  before.  For  nothing  was 
guarded  now,  and  cattle  and  garden-stuff  might  go 
until  after  this  difficulty  was  adjusted. 

But  an  Indian  dared  not  show  himself  around 
while  the  ire  was  unabated.  The  troublesome  affair 
became  known  to  the  savages,  and  there  was  not  one 
met  with  during  all  the  time  of  Wetzel's  incarcera- 
tion ;  but  they  worked  their  depredations  silently  in 
the  night,  and  woe  to  the  Indian  that  a  scout  would 
have  come  across  just  then. 

"  And  yet  it  is  but  a  test  case,"  said  an  old  hunter, 
who  had  been  in  the  court  room  as  a  juryman  once, 
and  who,  therefore,  was  considered  quite  an  authority 
on  legal  points. 

"  A  test  case !"  echoed  a  handsome  virago,  her 
arms  akimbo.  "  Call  it  a  test  case,  do  you  ?  I'd  like 
to  make  a  test  case.  Here,  somebody  go  and  bring 
me  in  an  Injun,  and  I'll  pretty  soon  make  a  test  case 
of  him.  Hang  Lewis  Wetzel,  will  they? — the  man 
that  mended  my  tubs  without  being  asked,  and 
never  said  a  word  about  it !  Never  !  I  wish  I  had 
my  ten  fingers  in  General  Harmar's  eyes,  w^ouldn't 
he  see  stars  I    Hang  Lewis  Wetzel,  will  they  ?" 


TRIAL  AND  ACQUITTAL.  319 

At  length  the  settlements  all  along  the  Ohio,  and 
those  even  of  the  back  counties,  began  to  embody  in 
military  array  to  release  the  prisoner  by  force  of 
arms.  And  many  of  these  indignant  people  were 
women  and  even  little  children.  These  many  stern 
faces .  meant  something  which  military  law  had 
scarcely  ever  encountered. 

Representations  were  made  to  Judge  Symmes 
which  induced  him  to  issue  a  writ  of  habeas  corpus 
in  the  case. 

"Who  will  go  security  for  Lewis  Wetzel's  good 
behavior?"  was  asked  in  court. 

"Good  behavior !"  cried  a  woman, "  why  you  must 
be  a  fool.  There  isn't  a  better  mannered  man  in 
the  country  than  Lewis  Wetzel.  You  don't  know 
what  politeness  is." 

"  Order  in  the  court !" 

When  order  had  been  restored,  the  question 
was  again  put  as  to  w^ho  would  be  security  for  the 
scout. 

A  party  of  hunters,  who  had  attended  the  trial 
from  first  to  last,  now  came  forv/ard  with  big  bags 
of  money  in  their  hands. 

"We're  his  bondsmen,"  said  one. 

"  Yes,  we're  his  bondsmen,"  repeated  the  others  in 
chorus. 

"  Have  you  any  property  ?"    . 


320  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Here  it  is,"  holding  out  the  bags. 

"  But  I  mean  landed  property." 

"  Bless  the  man's  sweet  eyes !  Just  as  if  gold 
wasn't  landed  property ! — just  as  if  gold  wasn't  safer 
than  land  in  these  Indian  settlements.  Now,  judge, 
just  you  look  here!  Landed  property,  do  you  say? 
Do  you  mean  land?  Perhaps,  then,  you'd  like  us 
to  go  out  and  dig  up  a  whole  prairie  and  bring  it 
into  this  here  court  and  give  it  to  you  as  a  security 
for  Wetzel's  decent  conduct  hereafter— is  that  your 
meaning,  judge?  We  don't  quite  get  the  hang  of 
these  here  court  proceedings,  but  if  that's  your 
meaning,  just  out  with  it,  and  if  we  can't  lodge  a 
whole  prairie  here,  we'll  bring  you  the  stock  of  one, 
— grass,  bisons,  wolves,  and  Injuns, — and  you  can 
keep  them  all  as  long  as  you  want  to — 'specially  the 
Injuns.  Say,  now,  look  here!  this  good,  honest  gold 
will  have  to  do,  judge.  And  bless  the  Injun  we 
come  across  on  our  way  out;  they'll  remember 
this  day.     Take  the  gold,  judge?" 

"  The  prisoner  is  acquitted  !" 

With  shouts  and  wild  hallooing,  Wetzel  was  lifted 
out  of  the  rude  dock,  and  borne  aloft  on  the  shoulders 
of  half  a  dozen  brawny  men,  and  taken  out  into 
the  open  air. 

Such  shouting,  such  festivity!  A  chance-comer 
might  have  supposed  that  Alexander  or  some  myth- 


TRIAL  AND  ACQUITTAL.  821 

ical  conqueror  had  come  to  life  again.  The  princi- 
ple was  preserved  intact,  and  Wetzel  represented  the 
entire  country. 

He  was  borne  in  triumph  to  Columbia,  where  he 
was  feasted  and  feted.  The  place  bore  the  appear- 
ance of  a  fair,  and  the  festivities  lasted  two  days. 
And  not  an  Indian  was  to  be  seen,  nor  a  camp-fire 
smoke  in  the  sky. 

And  while  the  Indians  had  the  good  sense  to 
remain  in  covert,  it  was  equally  good  that  Lieu- 
tenant Lawler's  duties  did  not  lead  him  down  that 
way. 

"Let  him  come!"  said  the  lady  of  the  court- 
house. 

Wetzel  is  thus  described  at  this  period,  August, 
1789: 

Twenty-six  years  of  age,  about  five  feet,  nine 
inches  high.  Full-breasted,  very  broad  across  the 
shoulders,  arms  very  large,  skin  dark,  face  heavily 
pitted  with  small-pox  His  hair  when  combed  out 
reached  to  the  calves  of  his  legs.  His  eyes  were 
very  black,  and  when  he  was  excited  they  sparkled 
with  such  vindictiveness  for  his  enemies  that  few 
cared  to  provoke  him  to  wrath,  although  he  was 
very  forbearing.  He  was  quiet  and  kindly  of  voice. 
His  morals  were  never  impeached. 


822  LEWIS  WETZEL, 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


THE  INDIAN  CAMP. 


T?ROM  all  records  and  tales  which  have  come 
down  to  us,  it  appears  that  Wetzel  had  now  his 
regular  seasons  for  hunting  Indians,  as  other  men 
around  him  were  accustomed  to  hunt  for  deer  and 
buffalo,  and  to  shoot  them  down  wheresoever  he 
might  chance  upon  them,  with  as  little  compunction 
as  he  would  have  shot  a  deer  or  a  panther.  He 
knew  the  seasons  when  his  advantage  of  attacking 
his  prey  would  best  reward  his  search.  Before  this 
time  he  had,  of  course,  studied  the  habits  of  the  red 
man,  but  hate  made  him  understand  their  very  in- 
tentions, it  would  seem,  and  he  appeared  to  scent 
them  long  before  any  one  else  knew  of  their  advent 
into  his  vicinity. 

His  predilection  was  known  to  every  one,  and 
often,  when  his  fine  aim  would  have  been  desirable 
in  a  lick  of  deer,  some  one  of  the  hunters  would 
say: 

"  There  is  no  use  asking  Wetzel  to  waste  powder 
on  a  mere  deer.  He  has  other  and  more  worthless 
game  to  track." 


THE  INDIAN  CAMP.  32^ 

For  his  recent  liberation  did  not  elate  him,  nor 
did  the  warning  of  his  incarceration  weigh  very 
heavily  on  him.  He  went  about  his  self-imposed 
task  as  though  he  had  gone  through  no  experience 
that  any  time  had  threatened  him  with  disaster. 
He  harbored  no  ill-will  towards  his  captors  or  his 
judges. 

"  They  only  did  their  duty  as  they  understood  it," 
he  said, "  and  as  I  do  mine." 

So  he  only  waited  until  the  fall  of  the  leaf  to  set 
out  on  one  of  his  old  expeditions.  For  days  before 
going  he  prepared  his  implements,  the  little  children 
playing  around  him,  and  then  one  morning  he  was 
missed. 

He  had  set  off  alone  the  night  before  on  an 
Indian  hunt.  At  this  time  of  the  year  the  Indians 
w^ere  generally  scattered  in  small  parties  around 
their  hunting-grounds,  making  their  lazy  provisions 
for  the  winter's  subsistence.  For  the  renewed  vigi- 
lance of  the  settlers  had  made  the  red-skins  more 
wary,  and  they  ventured  less  within  the  enclosures 
of  the  farmers,  fearful  of  hidden  rifles  and  scientifi- 
cally wielded  tomahawks.  Their  spies  had  seen  and 
reported  the  liberation  of  Wetzel,  and  they  divined 
what  they  had  to  expect  now  that  the  scout  was  held 
on  his  good  behavior,  and  what  they  might  look 
for  at  the  hands  of  his  friends  who  guaranteed  in 


324  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

court  that  lie  would  behave  himself  in  the  most 
praiseworthy  maimer. 

Wetzel  going  out  in  the  night  proceeded  in  his 
little  canoe  to  a  point  some  where  on  the  Muskingum 
Eiver.  Here  he  paused,  attracted  by  a  soft  move- 
ment in  the  bushes  hedging  the  river.  He  divined 
that  this  was  the  vicinity  for  him.  He  laid  all  night 
in  his  canoe  watching  for  morning  to  show  him 
more. 

"  I  scent  them,"  he  said. 

He  put  aside  now  the  recent  celebrations  over  his 
regained  liberty  with  a  species  of  disgust. 

"Why  did  I  let  them  feed  me,  when' there  was 
work  for  me  to  do  here  ?"  he  said,  and  quite  hated 
what  he  called  his  weakness  in  having  submitted  to 
the  wishes  of  his  admirers  and  letting  them  do  with 
him  as  they  pleased. 

At  the  first  break  of  morning  light  he  landed, 
and,  securing  his  canoe  and  hiding  it  in  the  bushes, 
he  proceeded  to  reconnoiter. 

He  had  not  proceeded  far  when  he  perceived  a 
thin  thread  of  smoke  arising  and  blurring  the  sky. 

He  followed  that  thread  of  smoke !  Nearer  and 
nearer  he  came  to  the  place  from  which  it  emanated. 
Then  he  could  hear  the  low  guttural  tones  peculiar 
to  the  Indian  voice,  and  he  crept  forward  through 
the  under-brujsh,  and,  sooner  than  he  expected,  he 


THE  INDIAN  CAMP,  325 

sighted  within  a  short  distance  of  him  an  Indian 
camp  where  four  braves  had  fixed  their  quarters  for 
a  hunt. 

They  were  gathered  about  the  fire  now,  early  as  it 
was,  and  were  lazily  complaining  that  they  could 
not  sleep  any  more,  having  gone  to  rest  at  an  earlier 
hour  than  usual  the  night  before. 

They  were  great,  strapping  fellows,  and  their  mur- 
derous faces  argued  ill  for  the  foe  attacked  without 
the  fullest  provision  for  defensive  warfare.  But  they 
were  not  on  the  war-path  now,  but  were  amicably 
inclined, — towards  themselves, — and  were  only  wait- 
ing till  afternoon  when  they  should  be  sufiiciently 
rested  to  go  for  a  stroll  through  the  adjacent  plan-- 
tation,  as  they  could  "take  their  ease  and  rest  when 
nothing  important  claimed  their  attention. 

Wetzel,  lying  in  the  bushes,  leaned  forward  to 
catch  the  intent  of  their  conversation,  and  to  try  to 
find  out  if  their  camp  meant  depredation  of  a  white 
settler  or  merely  a  pleasure  jaunt. 

That  it  was  the  latter  he  soon  understood,  and 

regarded  the  men  eagerly — his  was  a  pleasure  jaunt 

also.     The  Indians  were  so  wholly  unsuspicious  of 

any  enemies  prowling  about  them  so  late  in  the 

season  that  they  had  neglected  the  precaution  of 

out-posts,    and    were   completely   off  their   guard, 

keeping  neither  watch  nor  sentinel. 
28 


326  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Wetzel  at  first  hesitated  as  to  the  propriety  of 
attacking  such  an  uncompromising  number.  But 
after  a  little  spell  of  cogitation  he  concluded  to 
trust  to  his  usual  good  fortune,  and  so  he  began  to 
meditate  on  his  mode  of  making  an  attack.  He 
concluded  that  their  first  sleep  was  the  best  time  for 
him  to  begin  the  work  of  death.  He  sat  down  and 
watched  them  there,  stern  as  fate,  and  as  relentless. 

The  afternoon  came  on,  and  the  sun  filled  the 
wood  with  resinous  perfumes.  The  braves  got  up 
from  their  recumbent  positions,  stretched  and 
yawned,  and  sauntered  off  through  the  thicket. 

Wetzel,  too,  glided  further  off  from  the  camp  to 
rest  awhile.  He  thought  that  about  midnight  their 
senses  would  be  most  wrapped  in  stupor,  and  that 
that  would  be  the  proper  time  for  him  to  enter  their 
camp. 

He  determined  to  walk  to  the  camp  with  his  rifle 
in  one  hand  and  his  tomahawk  in  the  other.  Should 
any  of  them  happen  to  be  awake  at  the  time,  he 
could  shoot  one,  and  then  run  off  in  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  assured  of  a  hiding-place  in  the  friendly 
forest,  and  thus  he  could  make  his  escape.  Should 
they  all  be  asleep,  he  would  make  the  onslaught 
with  his  trusty  aids — his  scalping-knife  and  toma- 
hawk. 

Day  passed  away,  and  darkness  came.    A  lost 


THE  INDIAN  CAMP.  827 

mocking-bird  filled  the  wood  with  plaintive,  broken 
melody  of  unrest  and  grief  for  the  passing  summer. 
Other  songsters  answered  here  and  there,  and  the 
place  was  like  a  harbor  of  innocent  yearning.  Like 
a  disturbing  spirit  to  ruin  all  this  innocence,  through 
the  darkness  came  the  scout,  silent  and  sure,  towards 
the  open  spot  where  reposed  his  sleeping  victims. 
The  light  from  their  fire  soon  shone  upon  the  glis- 
tening autumn  leaves,  lighting  them  up  with  new 
radiance.  It  showed  a  path  directly  to  the  men 
beside  it.  It  crackled  its  warning  voice,  but  did  not 
awake  them ;  it  sent  its  flame  jets  across  their  dusky 
faces,  but  did  not  disturb  them ;  it  sent  its  smoke 
across  their  nostrils,  but  still  they  slept.  The  fire, 
their  only  friend  at  night  in  places  where  wild 
animal  foes  abounded,  could  not  deter  the  human 
foe,  but  lighted  him  on  his  way. 

That  human  foe  was  now  standing  amid  the  illu- 
mination. He  saw  aroujid  the  fire  the  heavy- 
blanketed  enemies, — four  sleeping  forms,  helpless  as 
babes  in  the  partial  death  of  sleep. 

For  a  minute  or  so  Wetzel  regarded  them.  Was 
he  admiring  their  splendid  physique,  their  calm, 
even,  unobstructed  breathing,  that  told  of  freedom 
from  all  bodily  ills,  and  a  wholesome  lack  of  fear? 
Was  he  thinking  that  possibly  there  were  dusky 
women  in  far-ofi",  silent   lodges  tenderly  dreaming 


328  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

of  these  men,  seeing  in  their  sleep  the  possible  dan- 
gers they  might  encounter,  and  fearing  for  their 
safety  now  that  the  white  man  was  equal  to  them 
in  cunning?  Was  he  thinking  that  possibly  little 
children  were  waiting  for  these  men,  and  at  every 
sound  in  the  morrow's  air  running  in  expectation 
of  meeting  them  and  being  raised  aloft  in  strong, 
caressing  arms? 

While  looking  down  on  those  sleeping  forms, 
he  was  thinking  of  the  best  mode  of  attacking 
them! 

He  set  his  rifle  against  a  tree,  determining  to  use 
only  his  knife  and  tomahawk,  as  these  promised 
surer  aid  if  used  properly  by  a  well-strung  arm 
whose  sinews  were  not  relaxed  by  dissipation. 

He  leaned  forward,  cool  and  self-possessed,  the 
fire-sparks  striking  and  stinging  his  face.  He  stood 
thus  for  a  second.  Then  he  raised  aloft  the  toma- 
hawk, sent  it  whizzing .  down  to  the  head  nearest 
him,  and  then  raised  it,  reeking,  and  the  death  had 
begun. 

With  hideous  yells,  he  aimed  the  tomahawk  at 
the  second  Indian's  head;  and  for  a  second  time 
there  was  a  dull  thud,  and  fresh  red  added  to  the 
terrible  instrument  of  death.  Then  the  third  Indian 
was  rising,  confused  and  confounded  at  the  unex- 
pected attack,  but  with  two  blows  he  was  stretched 


THE  INDIAN  CAMP.  329 

lifeless  beside  his  companions.  The  remaining 
Indian  dashed  a  blanket  over  the  fire  that  showed 
him  to  his  foe,  and  Wetzel  made  a  rush  forward  to 
him. 

But  he  was  too  late ;  the  brave  had  escaped  with- 
out his  blanket,  and  was  speeding  through  the  brush, 
and  the  fire  was  smouldering  and  muttering. 

Wetzel  pursued  him  for  some  distance,  but  he  did 
not  succeed  in  coming  up  to  him.  He  then  returned 
to  the  camp,  scalped  the  three  Indians,  pulled  up 
stakes,  and  made  for  the  white  settlements. 

What  ghosts  must  have  affrighted  him  as  he  went 
through  those  gloomy  w^oods  in  the  heart  of  the 
night  had  he  stopped  to  imagine  such  a  possibilit}^ ! 
The  spirits  of  the  Indians  who  had  fallen  by  his 
hand  might  have  made  a  strong  company  of  ac- 
cusers to  point  at  him  with  their  fingers,  asking 
him  for  their  lives  which  he  had  so  wantonly  de- 
prived them  of  while  they  were  in  the  full  glory 
and  lustiness  of  early  manhood !  And  he  might 
have  answered  such  dread  spirits  : 

"  My  father's  life  w^as  worth  far  more  than  all  of 
these ! — and  where  is  that  ?" 

So  he  made  his  way  onward,  gained  his  canoe,  and 
went  down  the  river. 

When  he  came  ifito  the  settlement  after  this  expe- 
dition, he  was  asked  what  sort  of  luck  he  had  had. 


330  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Not  very  good,"  he  said.  "  I  treed  four  Indians, 
and  one  got  away  from  me.  I  have  taken  but  three 
scalps,  after  all  my  pains  and  fatigues." 

"  Well,  luck  can't  always  go  along  without  some 
disappointment,"  was  the  consoling  reply, "  and  you 
must  hope  for  better  things  next  time." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  complain — I  don't  complain,"  said 
Wetzel,  and  fastened  his  canoe  to  a  pole  by  the 
river,  and  told  some  adventurous  children  not  to 
venture  there,  as  the  water  was  deep. 


THE  HVT  IN  THE  STORM,  331 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

THE  HUT  IN  THE    STORM. 

"\T7ETZEL  knew  that  the  Indian  who  had  escaped 
him  would  make  it  hot  work  for  him  to  avoid 
the  many  braves  sent  out  to  avenge  the  other  three. 

He  knew  that,  while  he  sported  with  little  chil- 
dren in  the  settlements,  councils  were  called  in  the 
distant  woods,  and  the  peace-pipe  buried  and  war- 
paint donned,  and  all  for  him.  For  one  of  the 
Indians  he  had  killed  had  been  a  "  big  brave,"  and 
his  scalp  was  adorned  by  a  circlet  of  brilliantly-dyed 
feathers,  while  the  leggings  he  had  worn  were  deftly 
wrought  with  beads  and  horse-hair,  and  his  blanket 
jingled  with  the  bits  of  bright  glass  and  metal  and 
stone  that  fringed  it. 

Reports  came  that  an  Indian  or  two  had  been 
seen  in  the  woods  very  near  to  the  heart  of  the  set- 
tlement. Men  going  to  look  into  the  truth  of  the 
report  returned  with  a  denial — nothing  was  there. 
But  Wetzel  was  not  so  positive  of  denial,  though  he 
remained  silent. 

Often  has  he  been  well  assured  in  his  mind  that 


332  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

while  he  slept,  a  sleeping  town  around  him,  red  men 
paced  patiently  and  tirelessly  before  his  house,  tried 
the  handle  of  his  door,  looked  in  at  his  window; 
that  when  he  walked  through  the  place  a  red  man 
paced  near  by  him,  taking  step  for  step  with  him, 
and  that,  for  all  he  knew,  the  rifle  and  tomahawk 
were  often  raised  on  him,  only  to  fall  back  again 
because  of  the  approach  of  some  one  whose  coming 
augured  death  to  the  would-be  dealer  of  death  ;  that 
only  the  superior  numbers  of  the  settlers  prevented 
an  open  attack  on  the  whole  settlement.  For  the 
Indians  no  longer  mustered  in  large  enough  num- 
bers, nor  so  far  inland,  to  attack  by  any  precon- 
certed movement  a  "place  inhabited  by  even  a  score 
of  white  settlers. 

So  the  holding-out  qualities  of  the  whites  had 
reduced  the  Indians  to  a  sort  of  subjection ;  and 
the  red  man  in  his  lodge  could  only  point  abroad 
and  tell  his  children  that  once  upon  a  time  his 
fathers  owned  and  held,  without  any  question  of 
their  title  to  the  ground,  all  that  sweep  of  land 
between  them  and  the  setting  sun,  all  those  herds 
of  horses  and  cattle,  all  those  fields  of  grain  and 
fruits ;  while  now  no  red  man  dared  claim  an  ell  of 
land,  the  horse  he  rode  was  begrudged  him,  and 
supposed  to  belong  to  some  white  adventurer  from 
whom  it  had  been  feloniously  purloined,  and  that 


THE  HUT  IN  THE  STORM.  333 

only  the  grave  promised  a  last  resting-place,  where 
no  longer  the  body  would  be  tortured  by  hunger 
and  the  mind  with  constant  apprehension.  No  red 
man  could  understand  why  all  this  had  come  to 
pass,  and  no  red  man  at  this  distant  day  can 
understand  and  feel  assured  that  it  is  just  and  right. 
The  white  man's  logic  must  ever  fall  powerless  upon 
the  ear  of  the  red  man,  who  once  possessed  the  land 
upon  which  the  white  logician  has  built  his  house, 
and  who  invites  the  red  man  thither  to  listen  to 
reasons  w^hy  the  house  and  land  are  the  w^hite  man's 
and  not  the  Indian's. 

Wetzel,  after  his  last  adventure,  rested  a  little 
while  inactive.  He,  in  common  with  the  settlers, 
was  beginning  to  understand  that  the  Indians  no 
longer  possessed  that  unique  simplicity  of  character 
which  should  let  them  trade  their  possessions  of 
inestimable  value  for  a  bunch  of  beads  or  a  bottle 
of  fire-water.  They  began  to  comprehend  that  the 
Indians  had  become  systematized,  and  that  they 
had  learned,  in  a  perverted  form,  the  value  of  the 
white  man's  right  and  wrong.  The  settler  was  now 
compelled  to  be  wary  at  all  times  in  all  places,  for 
Indians  were  even  now  presenting  claims,  for 
damages  done,  to  the  white  courts  in  different  prov- 
inces. In  the  Eastern  States  there  were  arising 
philanthropists  to  look  after  the  interests  of  the 


334  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Indians,  and  who,  leaving  theology  to  its  professors, 
undertook  to  look  after  the  worldly  interests  of  "our 
oppressed  and  native  population."  The  romance 
of  Indian  life  afar  off  attracted  the  attention  of 
readers  and  thinkers,  and  the  wrongs  of  an  indige- 
nous race  were  looked  upon  as  the  wrongs  of  indi- 
vidual Indians  who  had  degenerated  from  the  noble 
red  man,  by  intermixture  with  the  less  principled 
whites,  and  a  misunderstanding  of  the  meaning  of 
civilization,  into  the  veriest  cut-throats  and  black- 
guards on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

The  settlers  knew  the  Indians  as  they  found  them, 
and  had  no  theory  of  their  merits  and  demerits 
beyond  a  doubt  of  every  word  they  asseverated  to 
be  truth  and  every  moral  they  professed  to  have. 

These  friendly  disposed  whites  afar  off  made  the 
evil-intentioned  savages  more  bold  and  unprincipled 
than  they  had  been  before.  They  arose  from  what 
those  whites  called  oppression,  and  were  slyer  and 
more  cruel  than  ever. 

No  white  man  could  tell  Lewis  Wetzel  more  about 
Indians  than  he  already  knew ;  he  had  tested  the 
romance  when  he  was  a  child,  and  the  reality  had 
not  been  difhcult  to  learn. 

So  on  his  next  scout  he  used  a  little  more  precau- 
tion, and  resolved  to  be  more  on  the  alert  till  the 
excitement  among  the  Indians  attendant  upon  his 


THE  HUT  IN  THE  STOBM.  335 

last  attack  on  their  people  should  have  subsided. 
But  he  met  few  or  none  of  the  red-skins  for  a  long 
time  on  this  new  scout.  And  this  time  he  had 
undertaken  the  adventure  as  much  to  find  out  the 
intentions  of  the  Indians  upon  the  whites  as  any- 
thing else — to  ascertain  how  far  the  sympathy  for 
the  savages  had  awakened  in  their  untutored  breasts 
a  fierce  revolt  against  all  hitherto  accepted  restric- 
tion of  their  privileges.  But  he  could  not  come 
across  a  lodge,  his  foes  had  all  apparently  left  the 
neighborhood  and  gone  further  West,  and  the  doubts 
and  apprehensions  at  the  white  settlements  must 
therefore  be  without  any  foundation.  He  resolved 
to  learn  if  his  opinion  on  this  head  were  correct, 
and  then  he  would  go  back  and  take  the  welcome 
news  to  the  settlers. 

Now  during  this  search  there  came  a  wretched 
night  of  storm  and  rain.  Those  who  have  never 
experienced  a  storm  such  as  the  wilds  of  Virginia 
suff'ered  can  form  but  a  faint  conception  of  what  is 
meant  by  only  rain  and  wind.  At  last,  drenched 
to  the  skin  and  chilled,  Wetzel  came  across  a  half- 
destroyed  cabin,  and  crept  into  it  for  shelter.  He 
groped  his  way  to  the  loft,  as  being  less  draughty, 
and  threw  himself  down  to  sleep. 

How  long  he  slept  he  knew  not.  The  howling 
wind  and  the  deluge  of  rain  could  not  wake  him. 


336  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

But  suddenly  there  seemed  to  cross  his  brain  a 
vivid  flash  of  light.  It  was  not  lightning;  it  was 
not  white  enough  for  that,  even  if  it  had  been  the 
season  for  it.  Then  another  flash  came,  and  stayed 
longer  than  the  first. 

He  opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  the  flames  coming 
up  the  entrance  to  the  loft.     He  heard  voices  below. 

"  He  came  here,"  said  one  voice  in  the  Indian 
tongue ;  "  he  was  near  here  all  day  long." 

"  He  is  not  here  now,"  grumbled  another,  "  or  he 
would  have  taken  shelter  here.     Curse  him  !" 

"  He  does  not  mind  the  weather,"  said  the  first 
speaker. 

"  Neither  do  we,"  was  the  answer,  "  but  this  rain 
is  such  as  I  never  saw  before." 

Wetzel,  in  the  loft,  crept  forward  to  the  entrance, 
and  looked  down  through  the  flame.  Below  werq 
six  Indians,  who  had  taken  possession  of  the  hut, 
lighted  a  blazing  fire,  and  were  busily  preparing 
their  supper. 

"  But  this  light  will  attract  his  attention,"  said  one 
of  the  Indians. 

"Good!"  said  another;  " let  it  attract  him.  See, 
this  hut  has  a  loft ;  let  us  go  there,  and  wait  till  he 
comes  along,  and,  thoroughly  wet  and  tired  to 
death,  seeing  the  place  empty,  enters." 

Wetzel,  in  the  loft  above,  drew  his  keen  knife, 


THE  HUT  IN  THE  STORM.  337 

determined  that  did  they  put  this  project  into  execu- 
tion, and  attempt  to  enter  the  loft,  he  would  fight 
for  his  life  till  the  last  drop  of  blood  in  his  veins 
was  expended. 

"But  we  will  eat  our  supper  first,"  one  of  the 
Indians  now  said,  "  and  then  we  will  talk  of  it." 

They  gorged  themselves  with  the  meat  they  had 
cooked,  and  then  began  a  loose,  disjointed  talk. 

Wetzel  knew  their  characteristics  too  well  to  feel 
that  he  was  in  any  immediate  danger  of  an  attack 
that  night.  And  sure  enough,  in  the  middle  of  a 
long  preamble,  one  of  the  Indians  turned  over  and 
fell  asleep  on  the  floor. 

"  What  a  fool  to  sleep,"  said  one  of  his  compan- 
ions, "  when  there  is  so  much  to  do." 

"  What  is  there  to  do  ?"  asked  a  third,  rubbing  his 
e3^es  and  gaping. 

"  Why,  is  not  Wetzel  to  be  caught  ?  Then,  with 
his  scalp,  we  will  go  on  to  the  white  settlement,  lie 
in  wait,  as  he  did  at  Fort  Harmar,  and  one  by  one 
we  will  pick  off  the  white  cowards,  steal  their  women 
and  children,  and  teach  them  what  it  is  to  set  a 
man  free  after  he  has  murdered  so  many  of  our 
braves." 

"  Humph !"  grunted  the  chorus,  but  did  not  appear 

very  much  impressed. 

The  fire  was  warm  and  grateful,  and  supper  had 
29 


338  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

been  very  tasteful.  They  relapsed  into  silence.  Then 
there  came  a  stretching  out  of  one  of  them,  and  a 
second  one  slept.  A  few  minutes  more,  and  another, 
the  third,  followed  the  example  of  the  other  two, 
and  only  three  remained  awake. 

"  Shall  we  roast  Wetzel?"  asked  one  of  these.. 

Wetzel  leaned  down  from  the  loft  to  catch  the 
answer. 

"  We  will  half-roast  him,"  was  the  reply. 

"We  will  then  skin  him,  perhaps?" 

"  We  will  treat  him  as  half-roasted  Crawford  was 
treated  by  Captain  Pipe." 

"Good!"  came  the  grunting  reply;  "we  have' 
much  to  remain  awake  for." 

"  Good  !"  said  the  other  two. 

A  minute's  silence  was  enough  to  allow  of  a  fourth 
brave  sliding  forward  into  the  warm  ashes  of  the 
fire  fast  asleep. 

Only  two  were  left  awake,  sitting  bunched  up 
about  the  flame,  their  backs  towards  the  entrance  to 
the  loft. 

"  I  had  a  dream  last  night,"  began  one  of  them  in 
a  low  monotonous  voice;  "I  dreamed  I  was  in  the 
happy  hunting-ground,  my  lodge  filled  with  white- 
faced  squaws,  each  with  coal-black  eyes  and  a  cheek 
red  as  the  bison's  blood." 

"  Good  I"  grunted  the  other.    "  I  often  have  that 


THE  HUT  IN  THE  STOBM.  339 

dream.  I,  too,  dreamed  last  night  that  a  snake 
stung  me  on  the  heel,  and  it  turned  to  a  coal  of  fire 
when  I  trampled  on  it  with  my  bare  feet.  I  had 
put  my  foot  in  the  flame  in  my  sleep." 

"  Ugh !" 

They  bundled  themselves  up  closer,  their  eyes 
sleepily  fixed  on  the  fire,  and  rocked  their  bodies 
slowly  to  and  fro. 

Noiselessly  Wetzel  lowered  himself  from  the  loft, 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  the  two,  his  long,  keen  knife 
between  his  teeth. 

They  did  not  perceive  him ;  they  had  ceased  rock- 
ing their  bodies — they  were  asleep. 

Noiselessly  the  scout  crawled  over  the  prostrate 
forms  on  the  floor,  and  so  gained  the  door-way  and 
the  wrack  of  the  storm.  Once  one  of  the  sleeping 
Indians  moved,  and  the  scout  thought  he  was  dis- 
covered. He  paused  for  an  instant  to  ascertain  if 
this  were  the  fact.  But  the  savage  only  turned  in 
his  sleep,  and  was  now  snoring.  Wetzel  gained  the 
door-way. 

"Must  I  go  sneaking  away?  Must  I  let  these 
men  who  are  seeking  my  life  go  on  with  their 
brutal  quest  ?"  he  asked  himself.  "  No,  I  cannot  do 
that.     And  then  the  dreams  of  those  two !" 

He  hid  himself  behind  a  log  at  some  little  dis- 
tance from  the  door,  and  resolved  to  wait  all  night 
there. 


340  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

The  storm  was  at  its  height,  and  terrified  animals 
came  and  sniffed  at  his  hiding-place  jealous  of  his 
safety.  A  wolf  came  up  to  him  and  whined  pite- 
ously  in  his  ear,  then  turned  and  plunged  into  the 
vortex  of  water  that  flowed  roaring  across  the  land 
below.  The  light  from  the  ruined  cabin  showed  the 
water  like  ruby  wine,  and  Wetzel  could  see  the 
draggled  wolf  struggling  in  the  eddies  that  bore 
him  on,  yelping  his  death-cry,  and  buffeting  the 
water  with  his  fast  diminishing  strength. 

All  night  this  storm  raged,  the  like  of  which  had 
rarely  been  experienced  there.  And  soaked  in 
water,  but  holding  his  rifle  and  ammunition  close 
up  to  his  skin  to  protect  them  from  the  weather, 
Wetzel  waited  until  day-break.  In  the  morning  the 
storm  had  passed  away,  leaving  ruin  and  devasta- 
tion in  its  track.  Huge  trees  were  overturned, 
countless  birds  lay  dead  and  strewn  upon  the 
ground.  The  ruined  cabin  looked  as  though  it  were 
upon  an  island,  the  water  had  so  sloughed  deep 
passage-ways  on  all  sides  of  it.  The  wonder  was 
that  the  ramshackle  place  had  held  out.  But  so  it 
is;  forest  trees  which  task  all  a  man's  strength  and 
ingenuity  to  uproot  and  tear  apart  succumb  to  the 
fury  of  the  storm  which  tears  them  apart  into 
fibrous  masses.  But  the  handiwork  of  frail  man 
who  could  not  move  the  tree,  still  dominated  by 


THE  HUT  IN  THE  STORM.  '     §41 

that  feeble  strength  and  giant  ingenuity,  withstands 
hurricane  and  natural  phenomena  against  which  all 
else  is  powerless  and  futile. 

In  the  early  dawn  the  East  was  blooming  into 
color,  and  the  earth  was  glad  and  bright  after  the 
overthrow  of  the  night  before.  But  the  storm  had 
not  washed  out  man's  handiwork,  any  more  than  it 
had  washed  out  from  his  heart  the  spirit  of  crime 
and  the  aching  for  revenge — any  more  than  that 
storm  that  settled  about  that  lonely  Figure  on  the 
Cross  and  made  the  earth  black  with  sudden  night 
failed  to  wipe  away  the  spirit  that  had  placed  the 
Crucified  One  there  and  did  not  tremble  for  the 
enormous  crime. 

In  the  early  morning,  from  that  dismantled  cabin 
in  the  ruined  place,  stepped  forth  the  tall  form  of  a 
savage.  He  stretched  up  both  his  arms,  yawned 
ecstatically,  and  seemed  to  take  in  a  deep  inspiration 
of  the  invigorating  air. 

The  next  instant  there  was  the  sharp  snap  of  a 
rifle,  the  Indian  fell  heavily  to  the  ground,  and  with 
the  smoking  gun  in  his  hand,  Wetzel  was  darting 
through  the  sodden  wood,  secure  from  pursuit. 

"  I  could  not  leave  them  all"  he  said. 

For  hours,  in  all  bodily  distress,  had  he  lain  there 
to  accomplish  this  one  task — to  send  a  soul  to  its 
reckoning  unasked  by  its  Maker. 


342  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

His  own  would  have  gone  had  he  been  caught, 
and  this,  in  his  eyes,  and  in  the  eyes  of  people 
belonging  to  a  late  generation,  was  sufficient  to 
exonerate  him  from  any  accusation  of  guilt.  That 
he  might  have  escaped,  was  not  the  thing;  his 
enemy  and  he  could  not  live  on  the  same  earth  at 
the  same  time ;  the  wide  world  is  not  wide  enough 
for  the  man  who  knows  that  among  the  millions  of 
men  around  him  is  one  who  seeks  to  strip  him  of 
his  life,  and  who  never  forgets,  in  all  the  distrac- 
tions which  that  wide  world  and  its  millions  of  other 
men  hold  out  to  him,  that  he  will  not  have  sufficient 
room  until  there  is  one  man  less,  and  he  can  go 
through  the  million  miles,  among  the  million  men, 
conscious  that  there  is  no  chance  of  coming  face  to 
face  with  the  only  one  whose  living  is  a  reproach  to 
him  and  the  crying  evil  of  his  times. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  LOVERS.  343 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   STORY   OF   THE   LOVERS. 

"P  VERY  WHERE  that  Lewis  Wetzel  now  went  the 
story  of  his  arrest  and  detention  seemed  to  have 
preceded  him,  and  made  him  one  of  the  foremost 
men  of  the  rude  places  wdiere  he  had  not  been  known 
before.  The  principle  of  the  settlers  in  common 
was  the  principle  of  every  man  in  particular;  and 
Wetzel  had  vindicated  that  principle,  and  he  alone. 
And  so  w^as  Wetzel  elevated  to  a  height  of  heroism 
W'hich  was  as  irksome  to  himself  as  it  was  extrava- 
gant in  its  premises. 

The  vast  number  of  scalps  he  had  taken  proved 
his  invincible  courage,  as  well  as  his  prowess  in 
war;  the  persecutions  and  sufferings  by  which  he 
had  been  pursued  by  General  Harmar  secured  for 
him  the  sympathy  of  the  frontiermen.  The  higher 
he  was  esteemed,  the  lower  sank  the  character  of 
General  Harmar  with  the  fiery  spirits  of  the  fron- 
tier. 

Had  General  Harmar  possessed  a  tithe  of  the 
courage,  skill,  and  indomitable  energy  of  Wetzel, 


344  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

the  gallant  soldiers  under  his  command  in  the 
memorable  and  disastrous  campaign  against  the 
Miamis  might  have  shared  a  different  fate. 

The  estimation  in  which  the  scout  was  held,  how- 
ever, may,  to  the  casual  reader,  appear  to  be  the 
admiration  of  a  wild  set  of  men  for  one  wilder  than 
themselves.  The  heroism  of  the  man  may  seem  to 
disappear  under  the  almost  unnatural  ferociousness 
of  his  enmity,  and  it  may  be  adjudged  that,  in 
wreaking  an  almost  insane  revenge,  the  better  parts 
of  manly  nature  were  blunted  and  obscured,  and 
that  religion,  the  most  noble  characteristic  of  a 
noble  character,  had  little  share  in  his  being. 

That  he  was  not  without  religion  is  plainly  proved, 
I  think ;  that  is,  that  his  religion  partook  more  of 
that  which  the  Old  Testament  inculcates, — that  of 
stern  determination  that  a  criminal  must  suffer  for 
his  crime.  And  yet  he  was  loved  by  little  children, 
'and  the  simplicity  of  his  helpfulness  was  such  that 
other  men  looked  upon  him  as  a  tower  of  strength, 
and  scarcely  knew  what,  besides  his  recklessness, 
drew  them  towards  him. 

The  contradictions  in  his  character  may  prove  the 
kind  of  religion  his  was.  His  boyhood  had  been 
dwarfed,  the  only  being  he  ever  truly  loved  had 
been  torn  from  him  and  murdered  before  his  eyes 
at  a  time  of  his  life  when  he  was  most  impression- 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  LOVERS.  345 

able,  and  might  as  easily  be  swayed  by  wrong  as 
by  right. 

Looking  dispassionately  upon  a  life  like  his,  at 
this  wide  separation  from  it  and  its  living  causes 
for  impulse  and  at  this  time  of  ease  and  safety, 
the  wonder  seems  to  consist  in  the  fact  that 
from  that  boy  grew  up  a  man  with  the  honorable 
intentions  of  Lewis  AVetzel — that  he  did  not,  by 
reason  of  his  love  and  its  overthrow,  sink  below  the 
level  and  become  an  outlaw  in  the  truest  sense  of 
the  word. 

Instead  of  which,  are  there  many  who  wdll  call 
him  a  bad  man?  "By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know 
them."  The  fruits  in  Lewis  Wetzel's  case  w^ere  not 
perfect,  being  of  human  origin;  but  from  those 
fruits  came  surer  protection  to  the  settlers,  and 
turned  the  eyes  of  the  country  upon  white  man  and 
Indian  alike,  arguing  better  treatment  for  both ;  for 
the  settlers  w^ere  not  treated  as  they  had  a  right  to 
expect,  and  wdiich  the  urgency  of  their  cases  de- 
manded. They  were  settling  an  almost  irreclaim- 
able country,  and  no  means  but  their  own  personal 
exertions  were  given  them,  and  even  these  exertions 
were  some  times  cramped  by  unmeaning  authority 
in  high  places. 

Shortly  after  his  return  from  Kentucky,  a  relative 
of  Lewis  Wetzel,  living  on  Dunkard  Creek,  came  to 


346  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

the  settlement  where  the  scout  was  and  invited  him 
to  go  home  with  him  on  a  visit. 

The  man  was  not  used  to  houses,  nor  did  he  love 
them  any  more,  and  the  ties  of  blood  seemed  weak 
in  him,  in  his  care  for  communities.  But  this  was 
a  relative  of  his  father,  so  he  accepted  the  invitation. 
They  made  their  way  on  foot,-  hunting  as  they  went. 
Wetzel  had  been  silent  one  day  for  a  long  time.  At 
last  he  said,  as  they  rested  on  a  log : 

"  Simon,  I  doubt  if  I  shall  go  all  the  way  with 
you,  my  lad." 

"What,  Wetzel,"  cried  the  young  fellow,  "and 
after  all  my  preparation  for  you?  Do  you  know  I 
have  gathered  all  these  birds  purposely  for  you  ?" 

"Forme?" 

"  Yes,  I  want  you  to  see  how  Tilly  can  cook." 

"  Tilly  I     Who  is  that  ?"  asked  Wetzel. 

"Was  there  ever  such  a  man!"  cried  the  young 
man.  "Here  I  have  been  talking  of  Tilly,  Tilly, 
Tilly,  and  nothing  but  Tilly,  all  the  way,  and  you 
do  not  know  who  she  is.  Did  you  not  know  it  was 
a  young  woman?" 

"  Old  women  can  be  named  Tilly,  too,  I  sup- 
pose." 

"  But  young  men  won't  talk  quite  so  much  about 
old  Tillies  as  I  have  been  talking.  Can't  you  guess 
who  she  is?" 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  LOVERS.  ;  347 

"  Maybe  your  sister.  Maybe  you  told  me  you  had 
a  sister !" 

"  Maybe  somebody  else's  sister.  Upon  my  word, 
Wetzel,  you  are  a  regular  ludian  in  your  refusal  to 
ask  questions.  It  is  not  such  an  easy  matter  for  a 
man  who  meets  another  man  for  the  first  time — and 
you  are  almost  a  stranger  to  me — to  tell  him  that 
he  is  going  to  be  married.  Yes,  Tilly  will  be  my 
wife.  I  wanted  to  surprise  you  when  you  saw  her ; 
such  a  beauty  as  she  is.  I  suppose  you  know  a 
beautiful  woman  when  you  see  one  ?" 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know." 

" Don't  know!     Then  you  are  a  heathen  !'^ 

"  Nay,  Simon,"  said  Wetzel  in  a  softened  voice,  for 
he  was  always  in  sympathy  with  tender  minded 
men,  "  there  has  been  too  much  said  about  my  being 
a  heathen.  I  am  only  anything  rather  than  a 
heathen — I  am  only  a  weak  man  like  other  men, 
like  you;  and  like  other  men,  strong  physically,  my 
bodily  excellence  often  makes  me  seem  mentally 
deficient.  People  too  often  associate  religion  with 
weakness.  Whatever  my  beliefs  or  disbeliefs  may 
be,  I  am  never  a  heathen.  Perhaps  those  with  the 
strongest  faith  are  not  always  those  who  speak 
often  est  of  it.^' 

"  But  you  take  so  little  interest  in  men  and  their 
doings." 


348  .  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"It  may  be,  and  it  may  not  be.  I  take  little 
interest  in  my  own  doings.  I  am  impelled  forward 
to  do  the  work  of  my  life,  and  I  do  it ;  some  power 
within  me  urges  me  on;  what  it  is  I  know  not.  I 
only  know  that  the  power  is  there,  and  that  I  cannot 
gainsay  it.  There  are  so  many  things  that  urge  us 
against  even  our  own  convictions;  so  I  am  sure  you 
will  not  judge  me  harshly  here.  And  now  tell  me 
about  the  young  woman — Tilly.  When  shall  you 
be  married?  How  can  I  help  you  and  her?  Have 
you  a  house  to  take  her  in  ?" 

"Now^,  that's  something  like,"  cried  the  young 
fellow.  "  If  there's  anything  I  despise  it  is  to  talk 
on  and  on  about  the  woman  I  love,  and  have  people 
look  and  act  as  though  she  were  just  like  other 
women.  No  woman  with  a  lover  is  just  like  other 
women.  Two  married  women  are  precisely  alike, 
as  all  men  are  precisely  alike.  But  a  young  woman 
who  loves  a  man  for  the  first  time  is  unlike  any- 
thing on  the  earth,  though  there  be  millions  of 
young  women  that  are  in  the  same  pickle  with  her- 
self. The  pickle  is  the  same,  the  young  women  are 
not.     Don't  you  see?" 

"  If  I  fail  to  see,  it  is  not  your  fault,  Simon ;  and 
maybe  I  appreciate  pickles  better  than  I  do  women. 
And  yet  a  women  to  me  is  something  sacred.  And 
once  there  was  a  time  when  I  could  have——.  But 
go  on,  go  on." 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  LOVERS.  349 

So  in  the  green  wood,  with  a  soft  accompaniment 
of  bird-£ongs  and  whispering  leaves,  there  was  heard 
a  lengthy  dissertation  on  the  excellences  of  the 
3^ou ng  woman  to  whose  house  the  lover  was  bearing 
his  cousin,  the  scout. 

With  patience  and  attention  Wetzel  listened,  being 
careful  to  comment  and  ask  questions  that  brought 
wordy  answers,  and  altogether  redeemed  himself  in 
the  eyes  of  his  companion. 

Then,  the  tale  over  for  the  time,  they  proceeded 
onward,  shooting  a  few  more  birds  further  to  test 
the  culinary  accomplishments  of  the  lady  under 
discussion. 

When  they  were  but  one  day's  journey  from  her 
home,  the  lover  was  all  impatience  to  go  forward. 
No  more  stopping  to  talk,  no  more  stopping  for  moro 
birds;  they  must  go  onward,  and  rapidly.  Wetzel, 
yielding  to  the  importunities  of  his  companion, 
struck  out  with  him.  Towards  sundown  they  neared 
a  clearing.     Wetzel's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  ground, 

"  What  do  you  see,  Wetzel,"  asked  the  young 
man. 

"  Nothing  of  much  account,"  was  the  answer. 
" Have  we  much  further  to  go?" 

"  Only  a  short  distance,"  cried  the  enraptured 
lover,  "  and  then  you  will  see  such  a  sight.  A  little 
cottage  overhung  with  vines,  a  bird  in  a  cage  at  the 
30 


3.50  LEWIS  WETZEL. 


door,  a  snow-white  curtain  floating  from  the  window, 
and  at  the  gate,  waiting  for  me,  a  brown-eyed  girl, 
shading  her  eyes  with  her  hands,  and  searching  the 
hills  for  her  lover.  A  hundred  more  steps,  and  we 
will  be  out  of  the  woods,  and  then  you  will  see 
it  all." 

But  Wetzel's  eyes  were  still  anxiously  fixed  on  the 
ground.  He  did  not  raise  them  till  they  were  out  of 
the  woods,  and  then  a  wild  shriek  from  the  lover 
caused  him  to  look  up. 

Where  was  the  vine-hung  cottage,  with  its  bird- 
cage and  snowy  curtain?  Where  was  the  brown- 
eyed  girl  facing  the  sunset  ?  There  was  nothing  bat 
a  pile  of  smoking  ruins  ! 

•The  lover  had  fallen  to  the  ground.  Wetzel  like- 
wise fell  to  the  ground,  but  only  to  examine  the 
trail  that  had  attracted  his  eyes  so  long  in  the  woods. 
He  arose  again,  and  shook  the  prostrate  man  to  his 
feet. 

"  Be  a  man,"  he  said  sternly. 

"  A  man !"  echoed  the  other,  turning  stony  eyes 
upon  the  scout,  "  I  will  be  a  devil.  I  will  search, 
these  Indians  to  their  lair  and  never  rest  till " 

"  You  have  recovered  your  bride.  Don't  be  too 
rash  in  your  threats.  It  may  not  be  so  bad  as  you 
think.  There  have  not  been  Indians  alone  here; 
this  trail  proves  that  three  Indians  and  one  white 
man  took  away  the  captive." 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  LOVERS.  351 

"  Then  there  is  a  little  hope." 

"Not  from  the  white  man.  Come,  we  will  go, 
there  is  nothing  to  keep  us  here." 

"  Nothing,"  groaned  the  young  man,  "  and  yet  it 
was  everything." 

Placing  himself  under  the  control  of  Wetzel,  the 
two  strode  on,  hoping  to  come  up  to  the  enemy 
before  they  had  crossed  the  Ohio ;  the  yet  smoking 
ruins  proving  the  capture  to  have  taken  place  that 
same  day.  But  it  was  found,  after  proceeding  a 
short  distance,  that  the  savages  had  carefully 
obliterated  their  trail. 

"  That  is  the  cursed  spite  of  the  red  devils,"  cried 
the  young  man. 

"  Rather  it  is  the  work  of  the  white  man,"  said 
Wetzel.  "But  do  not  despair;  a  villainous  white 
man  is  no  match  for  one  who  knows  the  Indians' 
cunning.  Come,  I  have  a  plan.  Follow  me,  and 
keep  up  a  brave  hope." 

He  spoke  more  hopefully,  perhaps,  than  he  felt, 
but  he  feared  for  the  sanity  of  his  companion,  and 
he  resolved  to  save  him  if  he  could,  although  the 
young  girl  might  never  be  recovered.  He  also 
knew  that  the  depredators  w^ould  make  for  the  river 
by  the  most  expeditious  route,  and,  therefore,  he 
disregarded  the  trail  and  pushed  on  to  intercept 
them  at  the  crossing-place. 


352  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Oh,  my  dear  could  never  go  so  far,"  groaned 
the  lover. 

"  She  could  if  she  were  forced  to  do  so,"  calmly 
said  Wetzel. 

"Who  would  dare  to  force  her?"  asked  the  lover, 
on  fire  on  the  instant. 

"  That  is  right,"  commented  Wetzel.  "  Only  keep 
up  that  spirit  and  quit  driveling  and  you  may  be 
of  some  service  to  the  woman  whom  you  think  and 
almost  constantly  say  you  love." 

"  The  woman  I  say  I  love !" 

"  Yes ;  I  only  have  your  word  for  it,  you  have  not 
demonstrated  the  fact." 

Then,  without  waiting  for  another  word,  he  pushed 
on.  After  an  hour  or  so  of  hard  travel  they  struck 
a  path  which  the  deer  had  made,  and  which  their 
sagacity  had  taught  them  to  carry  over  knolls  in 
order  to  avoid  the  long  curves  of  ravines. 

Thus  the  pursuers  had  an  unexpected  advantage 
over  the  wretches  they  pursued.  Wetzel  followed 
the  deer-path  because  he  knew  that  it  would  event- 
ually prove  to  lead  in  almost  a  direct  line  to  the 
point  for  which  he  was  aiming.  Night  came  down 
in  all  its  starlit  beauty;  but  the  very  beauty  of  it 
seemed  to  lead  one  of  the  men  to  the  confines  of 
despair. 

"  Such  nights  we  were  always  on  the  porch  in 
front  of  the  house,"  he  mourned. 


THE  STOBY  OF  THE  LOVERS.  353 

"And  you  shall  be  again,"  said  Wetzel.  "And 
now  eat  this,"  and  he  offered  some  food  from  his 
pocket. 

"Eat  at  such  a  time  as  this!"  cried  the  other, 
spurning  the  morsel. 

"  Then  don't  do  it,  and  have  no  strength  left  for 
the  preservation  of  the  woman  you  love." 

The  young  man  took  the  food  and  ate  it,  and 
together  they  spurred  onward,  until  about  midnight, 
when  a  heavy  cloud  obscured  the  heavens,  and  they 
could  follow  the  path  no  longer. 

"  We  shall  have  to  rest  until  the  morning,"  said 
Wetzel. 

"Oh,  my  dear,  my  dear!"  returned  the  lover. 
"  Will  it  ever  be  morning  again  for  you  and  me  ?" 

The  night  was  passed  in  miserable  watching,  not 
a  word  on  either  side.  With  the  first  break  of  day 
Wetzel  looked  at  his  companion,  and  noted  a  change 
in  him.  There  was  a  new  determination  in  his  face, 
a  look  of  dignity  which  the  stars  last  night  had  not 
seen  there. 

A  rosy  pencil  of  light,  tingeing  the  tops  of  the 
highest  trees,  seemed  to  point  the  way  to  them  like 
a  finger  from  heaven.  The  young  man  fell  on  his 
knees  and  prayed,  and  Wetzel  bowed  his  head.  The 
young  man  arose  and  came  to  him. 

"  I  have  seldom  prayed,"  he  said  calml}^  "  but  my 


354  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

dear  told  me  she  always  did  when  she  was  in  any 
difficulty  or  danger.  I  know  that  wherever  she  was 
last  night  she  was  thinking  of  me  and  praying 
for  me;  wherever  she  is  at  this  moment  her  eyes 
are  raised  above,  and  she  is  asking  for  divine  guid- 
ance and  support.  I  prayed  all  last  night  that  I 
might  be  in  communion  with  her,  that  my  words 
might  meet  hers  in  their  flight  to  heaven,  and  be 
assisted  by  hers  to  reach  the  throne  of  mercy.  Now 
let  us  go  on." 

Wetzel,  still  with  bowed  head,  pressed  the  hand 
of  his  friend,  and  then  the  two  resumed  the  chase. 

After  descending  from  the  elevated  ridge  along 
which  they  had  been  passing  for  an  hour  or  two, 
they  found  themselves  in  a-  deep  and  quiet  valley, 
which  looked  as  though  human  steps  had  never 
before  pressed  its  virgin  soil. 

Traveling  a  short  distance,  they  discovered  fresh 
footsteps  in  the  soil.  But  the  eyes  of  love  saw  more 
than  this ;  the  lover  it  was  who  now  fell  to  his  knees 
and  regarded  the  tracks,  crying  gladly: 

"  She  has  been  here,  she  has  been  here  I  Here  is 
the  mark  of  a  little  shoe  with  nail-heads  around  the 
little  heel." 

He  leaned  down  and  kissed  the  print  of  the  little 
shoe  in  the  leafy  soil.  Hoar  after  hour  the  pursuit 
was  kept  up,  now  tracing  the  trail  across  hills, 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  LOVERS.  355 

through  valleys,  and  often  detecting  it  where  the 
wily  captors  had  taken  to  the  beds  of  streams.  Late 
in  the  afternoon  they  found  themselves  coming 
nearer  to  the  Ohio,  and  shortly  after  dark  discovered, 
as  they  struck  the  river,  the  camp  of  the  enemy 
upon  the  opposite  side,  and  just  below  the  mouth  of 
the  Captina. 

"Can  you  swim?"  asked  Wetzel,  turning  to  his 
companion. 

But  the  young  men  was  already  in  the  water, 
plunging  boldly  out  for  the  opposite  shore. 

Wetzel  sprang  in  after  him,  and  they  soon  reached 
the  point  of  their  destination. 

They  reconnoitered  the  position  of  the  camp,  and 
discovered,  they  thought,  the  locality  of  the  captive. 
Wetzel  proposed  waiting  till  daylight  before  making 
an  attack. 

"Wait!"  cried  the  lover,  "what  can  the  word 
mean  to  her  in  the  hands  of  those  red  devils?" 

"  I  don't  fear  for  her  safety  with  the  red  cusses  as 
much  as  I  do  with  the  white  man.  A  white  man 
on  friendly  terms  with  these  marauding  Indians 
is  worse  than  a  devil;  he  is  a  depraved  saint," 
returned  Wetzel. 

"  But  I  cannot  wait  until  day." 

"  You  must.  You  have  got  to  be  as  wary  as  your 
enemy.    Make  an  attempt  to-night,  and  the  chances 


356  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

are  that  the  first  load  you  fire  you  will  disperse  the 
red-skins,  and  find  your  lady  love " 

"  Yes." 

"A  corpse!  If  the  Indians  would  not  murder 
her,  the  white  man  with  them  will." 

Shuddering,  the  lover  acceded  to  the  scout's  sug- 
gestion. 

Another  sleepless  night  ushered  in  a  hopeful 
morning. 

At  early  dawn  the  savages  were  up  preparing  to 
leave,  when  Wetzel  said  : 

"  Take  good  aim  at  the  white  man,  he  is  your 
worst  enemy.  I  will  look  out  for  my  beloved 
Indians." 

Before  the  words  were  out  of  his  lips  the  young 
fellow  was  sighting  his  enemy. 

"  Careful,  careful,"  cautioned  Wetzel,  "  don't  for 
the  life  of  you  miss  him.  For  your  lady-love  let 
your  shot  be.    Now !" 

They  fired  at  the  same  moment,  and  each  brought 
down  his  man. 

But  here  the  lover  threw  down  his  gun,  rushed 
forward,  and  was  met  by  the  frightened  creature  he 
sought,  while  the  two  remaining  Indians  took  to  the 
woods. 

Wetzel,  with  a  frown  on  his  face,  stepped  apart 
from  the  two  lovers — for  what  had  he  to  do  with 
these  things  ? 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  LOVERS.  357 

"I  have  no  time  for  love — I  dare  not  have,"  he 
muttered,  "  or  I  should  fail  of  my  intention  and 
become  gentle." 

He  threw  out  his  arm  towards  a  settlement  of 
whites  wuthin  half  a  mile,  and  called  to  the  raptur- 
ous young  man  : 

"  That  is  your  way ;  go  seek  it." 

"But,  Wetzel,  come  here,"  was  the  glad  cry  in 
reply. 

Wetzel,  keeping  his  head  averted,  answered  : 

"My  way  lies  in  another  direction.  Farewell!" 
and  he  strode  into  the  wood  after  the  two  fleeing 
Indians. 

He  reloaded  his  gun,  and,  failing  in  his  search, 
fired  his  rifle  at  random  to  draw  the  Indians  from 
their  retreat.  The  ruse  succeeded,  and  they  rushed 
from  their  covert  of  trees  and  made  after  him  with 
uplifted  tomahawks,  and  yelling  at  the  top  of  their 
voices. 

But  Wetzel  soon  had  loaded  his  rifle  in  his  old 
fashion,  and  suddenly  wheeling  around  he  dis- 
charged its  contents  into  the  body  of  his  nearest 
pursuer.  The  other  Indian  now  rushed  forward, 
thinking  to  dispatch  his  enemy  immediately,  but 
Wetzel  kept  dodging  from  tree  to  tree,  and  being 
more  fleet  than  the  Indian  managed  to  keep  ahead 
until  his  unerring  rifle  was  once  more  loaded,  when 


358  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

turning,  he  fired,  and  the  last  of  the  party  lay  dead 
before  him. 

He  walked  about  for  a  little  while,  then,  drawn  by 
an  irresistible  impulse,  he  drew  towards  the  open 
space  where  he  had  left  the  lovers.  Far  off,  radi- 
antly illuminated  by  the  early  morning  sun,  he 
could  see  them  going  lovingly  along  towards  the 
settlement,  the  arm  of  the  lover  supporting  the 
clinging  girl.  Long  he  looked  at  them,  a  soft 
expression  on  his  dark  face.     Then  he  turned  away. 

"  It  is  not  for  me,"  he  said  softly.  "  This  must  be 
my  only  love  and  bride,"  and  hugged  his  trusty 
rifle  to  his  breast. 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  \  869 


CHAPTER  XXL 

Wetzel's  brothers. 

A  FEW  words  may  not  be  out  of  place  here  regard- 
ing Lewis  Wetzel's  brothers.  For  though  the 
scout  was  the  most  prominent  member  of  the  family, 
and  the  one  in  whom  hatred  for  their  common 
enemies  rankled  most  strongly,  yet  the  other  brothers 
were  not  behindhand  in  bravery,  though  they  earlier 
settled  down  to  rest  and  enjoyed  the  comforts  of  a 
fix6d  home  which  appears  to  have  ever  been  denied 
the  scout.  They  w^ere  nearer  to  the  habitation  of 
their  mother  and  sisters,  and  thought  more  of  the 
progressive  spirit  of  the  West  and  availed  themselves 
of  the  many  opportunities  to  become  landed  pro- 
prietors, holding  their  possessions  by  lawful  fee- 
simple,  and  in  many  ways  may  be  accounted 
shrewder  men  than  their  brother,  who  in  time 
became  almost  a  stranger  to  them. 

Their  sisters  looked  up  to  them  and  almost  forgot 
at  times  that  somew^here  in  the  wilds  roved  a  dis- 
contented spirit  in  whose  veins  flowed  the  same 
blood,  and  that  he  protected  them  afar  off  as  effectu- 


380  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

ally  as  the  stout  brothers  who  were  ever  within  call 
in  time  of  need. 

Leaving  Lewis  Wetzel  for  a  little  while,  and  con- 
fining our  story  to  the  other  members  of  his  family 
for  the  length  of  one  short  chapter,  it  will  be  found 
that  the  hard  school  which  reared  the  scout  might 
reckon  his  brothers  as  adepts  in  its  teachings  with 
small  fear  of  a  loss  of  honor  when  they  were 
entrusted  with  the  care  of  its  worthy  reputation. 

It  would  appear  that  their  mother,  having  dis- 
carded the  son  who  came  into  these  wilds  a  babe  at 
her  breast  as  thoroughly  incorrigible  and  deaf  to 
the  calls  of  maternal  affection,  lavished  on  the 
remaining  children  a  greater  love  than  had  hitherto 
been  theirs — almost  as  though  she  expended  upon 
them  the  share  that  had  once  been  their  brother's, 
his  who  wandered  through  the  wilderness  an  Ishmael 
whom  Ilager  had  grown  tired  of  when  he  any 
longer  refused  to  abide  with  her. 

Before  her  second  marriage  the  mother  of  the 
"VVetzels  never  stirred  abroad  without  having  one 
of  her  sons  with  her,  and  her  fretful,  broken  manner 
was  compensated  for  in  the  great  look  of  trust  and 
dependence  the  strapping  fellow  at  her  side  was  ever 
receiving  from  her  anxious  and  fear-stricken  eyes. 

They  went  on  expeditions,  and  she  shuddered  for 
their  fate,  while  she  could  not  withhold  them  from 
what  she  knew  was  their  duty. 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  361 

The  first  of  these  expeditions  relating  to  John 
Wetzel  may  be  chronicled  here,  not  because  of  its 
show  of  extraordinary  bravery  on  his  part,  but  that 
there  may  be  a  further  example  of  the  difference 
between  the  brothers.  Lewis  brooked  no  inter- 
ference with  his  plans  and  mode  of  life,  while  the 
others  viewed  any  divergence  from  the  law  they  had 
laid  dow^n  to  govern  them  but  as  a  contingency 
which  must  be  met,  and,  if  it  could  not  be  thwarted, 
then  to  be  turned  aside  to  do  as  little  damage  as 
possible. 

Late  in  the  spring  of  1786,  John  Wetzel,  who  was 
then  about  sixteen  years  of  age,  coming  into  his 
home  one  day  was  met  by  his  sister  who  informed 
him  that  a  lot  of  horses  had  gone  astray  in  the 
woods,  and  among  them  a  mare  and  its  foal  which 
had  been  given  to  her. 

"  You  can  have  the  colt,  if  you  get  the  mare  for 
me,"  she  said. 

"All  right,"  was  the  jubilant  answer,  and  the 
young  fellow  bounded  off. 

He  sought  a  companion  of  his  own  age,  one  of 
the  hardy  boys  of  the  time,  and  together  they  w^ent 
to  the  w^oods  on  Wheeling  Creek.  For  hours  they 
hunted  for  the  mare  and  colt,  and  their  search  was 
unavailing,  till  all  at  once  John  Wetzel  cried  to  his 
companion : 
31 


362  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"Hist!    I  hear  a  bell." 

The  other  listened  intently. 

^'  You  are  mistaken,"  he  said,  "  it  is  the  creek 
washing  over  tlie  roots  of  a  tree." 

"I  am  not  mistaken,"  asseverated  John  Wetzel, 
"  for  I  would  know  our  bells  among  a  thousand." 

And  so  he  would.  For  the  settlers  who  turned 
their  beasts  adrift  for  forage  always  placed  bells  on 
their  necks,  and  so  acute  had  become  their  sense  of 
hearing  that  the  tinkle  of  the  bells  belonging  to 
their  own  cattle  was  never  mistaken  for  that  of  a 
neighbor's,  and,  from  a  herd  of  animals  of  the 
same  color  and  size,  the  careful  housewife  or  her 
children  could  pick  out  their  own  cattle  by  touching 
the  various  bells,  with  very  little  danger  of  making 
the  slightest  mistake,  for  each  settler  trusted  this 
part  of  the  management  of  his  clearing  to  his  wife 
and  children. 

And  young  John  Wetzel  had  not  been  mistaken 
in  this  instance,  for  he  had,  indeed,  heard  the  faint 
tinkle  of  the  bell  about  the  neck  of  his  sister's  mare. 

"  Follow  me,"  he  said  to  his  friend,  "  and  we'll  see 
who  is  mistaken." 

They  went  through  the  wood,  in  another  direc- 
tion, for  a  considerable  length  of  time. 

"Queer!"  said  John  Wetzel.  "Bess  could  not 
have  traveled  this  far  since  I  heard  the  bell.  She 
knows  my  voice,  too.     Ho !  Bess,  Bess,  Bess !" 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  363 

He  stopped  to  await  the  result  of  his  calling,  but 
all  was  quiet  once  more.  Then  again  came  the  soft 
tinkle  of  the  bell,  and  the  lads  spurred  onward. 
The  bell  sounded  now  quite  close. 

"Hurrah!"  shouted  John  Wetzel;  "the  colt  is 
mine,"  and  made  for  a  close  covert  of  dense  trees, 
where  he  heard  the  bell  plain  enough. 

He  got  there  only  to  find  it  empty  of  any  beast, 

and  the  bell  tinkled  in  another  direction. 

» 

"  Strange,"  he  muttered. 

"  It  almost  seems  as  though  the  bell  was  leading 
us  deeper  into  the  w^ood,  and  for  a  purpose,"  said  his 
companion,  startled  and  pausing. 

"  Come  on,"  cried  John  Wetzel,  for  the  Wetzels 
paid  little  attention  to  timely  warning  in  those 
days. 

And  the  two  boys  followed  the  bell  that,  like  an 
ignis-fatuus,  led  them  first  into  one  direction,  then 
into  another,  but  leading  all  the  time  further  and 
further  away  from  the  white  settlements. 

For  the  mare  and  her  colt  had  been  come  across 
by  a  party  of  marauding  Indians  and  tethered  in  a 
thicket,  while  the  bell  was  detached  from  the  mare's 
neck  and  tied  to  the  wrist  of  a  brave,  who  led  the 
way  for  the  Indians  through  the  under-brush,  tink- 
ling the  bell  at  intervals,  well  knowing  that  the 
white  settler  to  whom  the  beasts  belonged  w^ould 


364  LEWIS  WETZEL, 

come  in  early  search  of  them,  and  would  depend 
upon  the  sound  of  the  bell  to  find  them.  Thus 
the  red-skins  soon  saw  the  two  boys  in  search 
of  the  missing  creatures,  and  by  the  sound  of  the 
bell  they  led  them  into  a  place  of  security,  where 
they  might  easily  be  captured  without  any  fear  of 
intervention  on  the  part  of  any  rescuing  party  of  the 
whites. 

The  horse  was  ever  a  favorite  object  of  plunder 
with  the  savages,  as  not  only  facilitating  his  own 
escape  from  pursuit,  but  also  assisting  him  in  carry- 
ing off  the  spoil. 

Into  the  very  heart  of  the  forest  these  two  boys 
were  led  by  the  tinkling  of  the  well-known  bell, 
and  they  were  congratulating  themselves  upon  the 
rescue  of  »the  animals,  when  there  sprang  out  from 
the  shade  four  stalwart  Indians,  who  immediately 
bound  the  boys  with  cords. 

John,  in  attempting  to  escape,  was  shot  through 
the  arm.  On  their  march  to  the  Ohio  his  companion 
made  so  much  lamentation  and  moaning  on  account 
of  his  captivity  that  the  Indians  dispatched  him 
with  their  tomahawks. 

The  party  struck  tlie  Ohio  River  early  the  follow- 
ing morning,  at  a  point  near  the  mouth  of  Grave 
Creek,  and  just  below  the  clearing  of  a  Mr.  Tomlin- 
son.     Here  they  found  some  hogs,  and  killing  one 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  365 

of  them  with  a  rifle,  put  the  carcass  into  a  canoe 
they  had  stolen. 

Three  of  the  Indians  took  possession  of  the  canoe 
with  their  boy  prisoner,  while  the  other  Indian  was 
busied  in  swimming  the  horses  across  the  river.  It 
so  happened  that  Isaac  Williams,  Hamilton  Carr, 
and  Jacob,  a  Dutchman,  had  come  down  that  morn- 
ing from  Wheeling  to  look  after  the  cattle  and  hogs 
left  at  the  deserted  settlement  at  the  mouth  of  the 
creek. 

While  at  the  outlet  of  Little  Grave  Creek,  about 
a  mile  above,  they  heard  the  report  of  a  rifle  in  the 
direction  of  the  plantation. 

"  Dod  rot  'em !"  exclaimed  Williams ;  "  a  Kentuck 
boat  has  landed  at  the  creek,  and  they  are  shooting 
my  hogs." 

Immediately  quickening  their  pace  to  a  smart 
trot,  they  in  a  few  minutes  were  within  a  short  dis- 
tance of  the  creek,  when  they  heard  the  loud  snort 
of  a  horse. 

Carr  being  in  the  prime  of  life,  and  younger  than 
Williams,  was  several  rods  ahead,  and  reached  the 
bank  in  advance  of  the  others. 

As  he  looked  down  into  the  creek,  he  saw  three 
Indians  standing  in  a  canoe ;  one  was  in  the  stern, 
one  in  the  bow,  and  one  in  the  middle  of  the  boat. 
At  the  feet  of  the  latter  lay  four  rifles  and  a  dead 


366  LB  WIS  WETZEL, 

hog ;  while  a  fourth  Indian  was  swimming  a  horse 
across  the  Ohio,  a  few  rods  from  the  shore.  The  one 
in  the  stern  had  his  paddle  in  the  edge  of  the  water, 
in  the  act  of  turning  and  shoving  the  canoe  from  the 
mouth  of  the  creek  into  the  river. 

Before  they  were  aware  of  his  presence,  Carr  drew 
up  and  shot  the  Indian  in  the  stern  of  the  boat,  and 
he  instantly  fell  into  the  water. 

The  crack  of  his  rifle  had  scarcely  ceased  when 
Williams  came  on  to  the  bank  and  shot  the  Indian 
in  the  bow  of  the  canoe,  who  also  fell  overboard, 
as  Jacob  came  up.  Carr  dropped  his  own  rifle,  and 
seizing  that  of  the  Dutchman,  shot  the  remaining 
Indian  who  stood  in  the  waist  of  the  boat.  He  fell 
over  into  the  water,  but  still  held  on  to  the  side  of 
the  canoe  with  one  hand.  So  amazed  had  been  the 
last  Indian  at. the  fall  of  his  companions,  that  he 
never  offered  to  lift  one  of  the  rifles,  which  lay  at  his 
feet,  in  self-defense,  but  acted  like  one  bereft  of  his 
senses. 

By  this  time  the  canoe,  impelled  by  the  impetus 
given  to  it  by  the  first  Indian,  had  reached  the 
current  of  the  Ohio,  and  was  some  rods  below  the 
mouth  of  the  creek. 

Carr  now  reloaded  his  own  gun,  and,  seeing 
another  man  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe, 
raised  it  to  his  face  in  the  act  of  firing,  when  he  in 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  367 

the  bottom  of  the  canoe,  seeing  the  movement, 
called  out : 

"  Don't  shoot,  I  am  a  white  man." 

Carr  told  him  to  knock  loose  the  Indian's  hand 
from  the  side  of  the  canoe  and  paddle  to  the  shore. 

In  reply,  he  said  his  arm  was  broken,  and  that 
he  could  not.  The  current,  however,  set  it  near 
some  rocks  not  far  from  land,  on  to  which  he  jumped 
and  waded  out. 

"  Bless  my  soul !"  cried  Williams,  "  if  it  ain't  one 
o*  John  Wetzel's  boys." 

"It's  only  John,  junior,"  answered  the  wounded 
lad,  and  fell  in  a  faint  from  the  pain  in  his  arm. 

Carr  now  aimed  his  rifle  at  the  Indian  on  horse- 
back, who  by  this  time  had  reached  the  middle  of 
the  Ohio. 

The  shot  struck  near  him,  splashing  the  water  on 
to  his  naked  skin. 

The  Indian,  seeing  the  fate  of  his  companions, 
with  the  bravery  of  an  ancient  Spartan,  immediately 
slipped  from  the  back  of  the  horse,  and  swam  for 
the  abandoned  canoe,  in  which  were  the  rifles  of 
the  v/hole  four  warriors.  This  was  in  fact  an  act  of 
necessity  as  w^ell  as  of  noble  daring,  as  he  well  knew 
he  could  not  reach  his  country  without  the  means 
of  killing  game  by  the  way. 

He  gained   possession  of  the  canoe  unmolested, 


868  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

crossed  with  the  arms  to  his  own  side  .of  the  Ohio, 
mounted  the  captive  horse  which  had  swum  to  the 
Indian  shore,  and;  with  a  yell  of  defiance,  escaped 
into  the  woods.  The  canoe  was  turned  adrift  to 
spite  his  enemies,  and  was  taken  up  near  Maysville, 
the  dead  hog  which  had  been  the  means  of  the 
rescue  of  the  white  boy  still  in  it. 

The  whole  of  this  story  is  here  given,  and  almost 
entirely  in  the  exact  words  of^  the  chronicle,  as 
proving  being  both  interesting  and  more  compressed 
than  most  of  the  stories  that  have  reached  us  in  the 
verbatim  reports  of  the  settlers,  who  often  added  to 
their  own  personal  knowledge  of  a  matter  the  argu- 
ments of  any  chance  settler  who  came  in  and  proved 
that  he  knew  as  much  as  the  original  reporter,  only 
his  knowledge  was  a  little  fuller  and  totally  at  vari- 
ance with  the  first  man's. 

There  is  a  little  story  of  John  Wetzel,  "junior," 
meeting  a  little  Indian  papoose  tied  up  in  its  birch- 
bark  box  and  lying  upon  the  ground  in  the  woods, 
its  mother  not  being  in  sight.  The  boy  looked  at 
the  grave-eyed  child  lying  in  his  path,  and  thought 
it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  steal  it.  He  caught  it  up 
and,  hugging  it  closely  to  him,  bore  it  out  of  the 
wood.  It  kept  its  great  fawn-like  eyes  on  him,  and 
smiled  in  his  face.  He  bore  it  on  and  gained  the 
outer  rim  of  the  wood.  Here  he  was  confronted  by 
a  squaw  who  held  out  her  arins  for  the  child. 


,  WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  369 

"Mine,"  she  said.  "Squaw  followed  white  boy 
with  papoose  out  of  the  woods." 

Without  a  word  the  boy  handed  her  the  child, 
which  she  eagerly  took,  raised  it  above  her  head  and 
dashed  it  to  the  ground,  a  dead  and  bleeding  thing. 

She  had  no  sooner  done  the  fiendish  act,  when 
another  squaw  a-ppeared  upon  the  scene,  distraught 
and  wild. 

"  My  papoose,"  she  cried. 

She  saw  it  lying  upon  the  ground,  and  wailed 
and  threw  herself  beside  it  in  a  paroxysm  of  grief. 

All  the  time  the  other  squaw  was  looking  on 
unmoved. 

Then  the  grieving  one  raised  herself  to  her  feet 
again,  and  turned  her  blood-shot  eyes  upon  the  pair 
of  human  beings  regarding  her, 

"  Who  did  that?"  she  said  coldly. 

There  was  no  answer. 

"  White  boy  did  not,"  she  went  on ;  "  you  did," 
turning  to  the  squaw. 

The  one  accused  did  not  change  her  position, 
standing  there  gazing  calmly  at  her  accuser. 

"  Did  you  kill  his  child  because  he  loved  me  and 
did  not  love  you  ?"  asked  the  mother-squaw^,  going 
to  her  and  standing  menacingly  before  her. 

The  other  clearly  foresaw  a  murderous  attack,  and 
made  no  attempt  to  ward  it  off,  but  smiled  in  the 
eyes  of  the  w^oman  she  had  so  wronged. 


G70  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  Kill  me !"  she  said  at  length ;  "  kill  me !  I  do  uot 
want  to  live.  I  have  not  wanted  to  live  since  j^ou 
loved  him;  kill  me,  and  spare  not.  Yes,  I  killed 
the  child ;  I  killed  it  because  I  love  its  father,  not 
because  he  loves  you.  I  killed  it  so  that  I  may  be 
killed.  Thus  do  I  punish  the  man  who  does  not 
love  me." 

The  mother  stepped  back  from  her,  and  moved 
away.  * 

"  Well,"  cried  the  other,  "  what  will  you  do  to  me? 
I  w^ill  make  no  defense.     Kill  me." 

"  Live !"  said  the  mother  in  a  hollow  voice ;  "  live! 
If  you  kill  to  punish  those  you  love — then  live !" 

And,  noticing  not  the  body  of  her  child,  she 
turned  on  her  heel  and  disappeared  in  the  forest. 

The  other  woman  appeared  as  though  petrified 
for  an  instant,  and  gazed  with  eyes,  where  little 
speculation  lingered,  in  the  direction  the  woman  she 
had  wronged  had  gone.  Then,  seeming  to  realize 
the  position,  and  casting  her  eyes  upon  the  ground, 
with  a  great  burst  of  passionate  grief  she  threw  her- 
self beside  the  little  form  and.  caught  it  to  her,  hug- 
ging it  close,  rocking  it  to  and  fro,  wailing  in  a 
grief-stricken  tone,  and  punished  more  effectually 
than  death  ever  punishes  when  it  avenges  an  evil 
act.  The  boy,  comprehending  enough  to  be  rooted 
to  the  spot,  witnessed  a  little  longer  the  abandon- 


WETZEIJS  BROTHERS.  371 

ment  of  the  woman,  and  then  the  full  horror  of  the 
scene  came  before  him  and  enlightened  him  with 
its  inmost  meaning.  Edging  a  little  away  from 
the  woman  holding  the  dead  child,  yet  his  eyes  set 
upon  her,  at  last,  by  a  supreme  effort,  he  broke  the 
fascination  that  held  him,  and  with  a  wild  cry  of 
fear  turned  and  fled  from  the  spot,  that  scene  forever 
stamped  upon  his  brain. 

I  find  that  years  elapse  before  any  very  striking 
adventure  of  any  of  the  brothers  of  the  scout  are 
spoken  of  after  the  one  above  mentioned. 

But  in  the  year  1791,  or  possibly  1792,  the  Indians 
having  made  frequent  and  disastrous  incursions 
into  the  settlements  of  the  whites  along  the  Ohio 
River,  between  the  town  of  Wheeling  and  the  Mingo 
Bottom,  sometimes  murdering  entire  families,  at 
other  times  capturing  them  and  taking  them  away 
to  torture  and  servitude,  again  making  a  raid  and 
capturing  all  the  horses  belonging  to  a  station  or  a 
fort,  a  little  company  of  fiercely-determined  and 
insulted  men,  consisting  of  John  Wetzel,  Jr.,  as  he 
called  himself,  William  McCullough,  John  Hough, 
Thomas  Biggs,  Joseph  Hedges,  Kinzie  Dickerson, 
and  a  certain  Mr.  Linn,  rendezvoused  at  a  place 
called  the  Beach  Bottom,  which  was  on  the  Ohio 
River,  a  few  miles  below  where  Wellsburg  is  now 
situated. 


372  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  avowed  object  of  this  little  band  was  to  pro- 
ceed to  the  Indian  town  and  steal  horses,  in  revenge 
for  the  beasts  taken  from  the  whites. 

This  horse  stealing  was  considered  a  legal, 
honorable  profession,  as  there  was  then  open  war 
against  the  Indians,  and  it  would  only  be  retaliating 
on  them  in  their  own  way. 

And  possibly  the  AVestern  frontier  could  at  few 
other  times  have  furnished  seven  men  whose  souls 
were  better  fitted,  and  whose  nerves  and  sinews 
were  better  strung,  to  perform  any  enterprise  of 
hazard  which  required  resolution  and  firmness. 
These  men,  then,  after  making  the  scanty  adieus 
vouchsafed  to  families  and  friends  on  undertaking 
such  adventures,  proceeded  across  the  Ohio,  and 
went  along,  with  cautious  steps  and  vigilant  glances, 
on  their  way  through  the  cheerless,  black,  and  almost 
impenetrable  forest  in  the  Indian  country,  till  they 
came  to  an  Indian  town,  near  where  the  headwaters 
of  the  Sandusky  and  the  Muskingum  Eivers  inter- 
lock. 

Here  they  discovered  a  paddock,  where  flowing 
manes  and  frisking  tails  were  theirs  for  the  taking. 
There  was  no  opposition  offered,  nor  did  a  red-skin 
put  in  an  appearance. 

They  took  and  tethered  fifteen  horses,  and  pre- 
pared to  go  off  home  with  their  champing  freight. 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  373 

They  traveled  with  all  rapidity,  for  they  knew  how 
soon  the  Indian  loss  would  be  discovered,  and  that 
a  pursuit  would  take  place  immediately  after  the 
loss  was  found  out,  making  only  the  shortest  halts, 
to  allow  their  horses  to  graze,  and  to  throw  them- 
selves down  upon  the  sward  to  breathe  for  an 
instant,  to  recruit  their  strength  and  activity.  In 
the  evening  of  the  second  day  of  their  rapid  retreat 
they  arrived  at  Wells'  Creek,  not  far  from  where  the 
busy  little  town  of  Cambridge  now  rears  its  aspiring 
and  pretty  head.  Here  Linn,  one  of  the  seven,  was 
taken  ill,  and  the  party  were  compelled  either  to 
stop  and  administer  to  his  wants  or  go  on  and 
leave  him  entirely  alone  to  perish  in  the  lonely 
woods  that  resounded  with  the  cries  of  preying 
animals. 

But  they  were  men  of  too  simple  a  type  to 
desert  one  of  their  number  in  time  of  necessity, 
and  selfishness  was  only  to  come  later  when  civili- 
zation made  inroads  upon  the  green  lengths  of 
wood  and  field  which  the  first  settlers  claimed,  but 
were  only  too  often  denied  by  legal  measures. 

They,  therefore,  paused  in  their  homeward  stretch, 
and  placed  sentinels  on  their  back  and  trail,  who 
remained  until  late  in  the  night  without  perceiving 
any  signs  of  their  being  pursued.  When  midnight 
had  passed,  and  all  was  quiet,  the  sentinels  on  the 

32 


374  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

back  trail  returned  to  the  camp,  where  Linn  was 
rolling  and  tossing  in  excruciating  pain.  All  the 
simple  remedies  in  the  power  of  the  six  pitying 
men  were  administered  without  producing  a  sen- 
sible result  or  diminishing  the  pain  of  the  sufferer. 
Their  camp  was  on  the  back  of  a  small  stream,  and 
therefore  naturally  guarded  in  one  of  its  approaches  •, 
and,  feeling  safe  from  the  other  three  sides,  at  last 
worn  out,  and  the  sick  man  sinking  into  a  tempo- 
rary sleep  of  exhaustion,  they  threw  themselves 
upon  the  ground  to  snatch  a  few  moments  of  repose. 
But  one  of  their  party  was  wakeful,  and  he  consti- 
tuted himself  a  guard. 

Just  before  daylight  this  guard  went  to  the  small 
stream  already  mentioned,  and,  taking  a  small 
bucket,  dipped  up  some  water  out  of  the  run.  On 
carrying  the  bucket  back  to  the  camp-fire,  he  dis- 
covered the  water  to  be  muddy.  The  muddy  water 
immediately  awakened  his  suspicion  that  the  red 
enemy  might  be  approaching  them,  and  might  at  this 
instant  be  walking  towards  the  camp  in  the  midst 
of  the  stream,  the  footsteps  coming  thus  being 
drowned  in  the  water  and  rendered  noiseless.  He 
aroused  the  rest  of  the  party,  and  communicated  his 
suspicions  to  them. 

They  arose,  examined  the  stream  a  short  distance, 
and  listened  attentively  for  quite  a  protracted  time. 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS,  .  375 

But  neither  could  they  see  nor  hear  anything  calcu- 
lated to  alarm  them,  and  they  concluded  forthwith 
that  it  must  have  been  raccoons  or  some  other  ani- 
mals who  had  swam  the  stream  and  stirred  it  up, 
and  that  that  accounted  for  the  mud. 

After  this  conclusion  they  all  lay  down  again, 
with  the  exception  of  the  self-constituted  guard,  who 
exclaimed: 

"  You  can  do  as  you  please,  but  I  watch  for  the 
balance  of  the  night,"  and  took  up  his  station  just 
outside  the  light. 

Happily  for  them,  the  camp-fire  had  burned  down 
so  low  that  but  a  few  live  coals  remained,  and 
offered  a  dim  radiance,  merely  sufficient  to  point  out 
where  they  lay. 

For  the  mud  in  the  stream  had  not  been  occa- 
sioned by  an}^  four-footed  denizens  of  the  forest;  the 
enemy  had  come  silently  down  the  little  creek,  bent 
on  the  most  ferocious  attack  on  the  whites,  and  were 
even  then  far  on  their  way  to  them,  as  the  sentinel 
had  suspected,  and  were  soon  within  ten  or  twelve 
feet  from  where  they  lay,  and  immediately  fired 
several  guns  over  the  bank. 

Linn,  the  sick  man,  lying  with  his  side  towards  the 
stream,  received  nearly  all  the^balls  in  his  body, 
and  was  in  the  position  to  afford  a  slight  barricade, 
protecting  the  others. 


876  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

The  Indians,  after  firing  once,  with  tremendous, 
deafening  yells  mounted  the  bank  with  loaded  rifles, 
tomahawks,  and  war-clubs,  and  made  for  the  sur- 
prised men,  who,  giving  a  glance  of  sleepy  protesta- 
tion, fled  dismayed,  and  without  arms,  closely  pur- 
sued by  the  enemy. 

It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  Linn  was  already  killed, 
and  Biggs  and  Hedges  were  murdered  a  few  steps 
outside  the  camp. 

McCullough  ran  a  short  distance  further,  when  he 
was  fired  at  and  fell.  But,  instead  of  being  pros- 
trated by  a  bullet,  he  had,  at  the  moment  of  firing, 
precipitated  himself  into  a  quagmire.  The  Indians, 
supposing  they  had  killed  him,  rushed  past  him  in 
pursuit  of  the  other  fleeing  men,  not  caring  for  his 
scalp  until  they  had  finished  the  whole  party  and 
obtained  seven  trophies. 

But  their  feet  had  scarcely  past  him,  when  McCul- 
lough extricated  himself  from  the  quagmire  and 
put  off  in  an  opposite  direction  to  that  taken  by  the 
Indians.  When  day  had  fully  broken,  he  fell  in 
with  Hough,  who  had  also  managed  to  elude  the 
enemy,  and  the  two  made  their  way,  haltingly,  and 
with  the  direst  surmises  as  to  the  fate  of  their  less 
fortunate  companions,  to  Wheeling. 

John  Wetzel  andKinzie  Dickerson  had  also  made 
a  partial  escape ;  at  least  the  Indians  had  gone  past 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  377 

them  where  they  lay  in  the  under-brush,  and  were 
seeking  them  further  on.  They  could  distinctly 
hear  the  expression  of  anger  and  disappointment 
w^here  they  lay  in  the  grass,  scarcely  daj'ing  to 
breathe.  They  remained  where  they  had  fallen  all 
da}',  all  the  next  night. 

At  day-break  on  the  second  day  they  heard  a  tre- 
mendous tramping;  it  was  the  troop  of  recaptured 
horses  being  driven  off  by  the  Indians,  and  arranged 
in  squads  and  tramping  through  the  grass  in  order 
to  crush  any  of  the  little  undiscovered  party  who 
might  be  in  hiding  there.  Miraculously  the  two 
men  were  unharmed ;  and  waiting  till  the  retreating 
sounds  were  hushed  entirely,  and  assuring  themselves 
cautiously  that  none  of  the  foe  remained  behind 
still  searching  for  the  escaped  men,  the  two  made 
their  way  through  the  grass,  foot-sore  and  nearly 
famished,  on  to  Wheeling,  where  they  arrived  more 
dead  than  alive. 

As  soon  as  the  stragglers  had  arrived  at  Wheeling, 
Captain  John  McCullough,  collecting  a  party  of 
m^en,  proceeded  to  Wells'  Creek,  where  they  per- 
formed the  funeral  rites  of  the  three  unfortunate 
men  who  had  fallen  in  or  near  the  camp,  and  whose 
dead  bodies  the  Indian  miscreants  had  mutilated  in 
a  most  horrible  manner. 

Thus  was  closed  the  horse-stealing  tragedy. 


378  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Then  John  Wetzel  and  the  hunter  named  Veach 
Dickerson  associated  together  to  go  on  an  Indian 
scout.  They  cfossed  the  Ohio  three  miles  below 
the  present  town  of  Steubenville,  with  its  more  than 
thrifty  inhabitants  and  activity  in  the  march  of  im- 
provements. The  men  set  off  with  the  avowed 
intention  of  bringing  in  an  Indian  prisoner.  Indeed 
it  seems  that  while  Lewis  Wetzel's  brothers  were  as 
vindictive  as  he  was  himself,  their  vindictiveness 
had  a  merry,  playful  side  to  it  wholly  lacking  in  his 
case.  Their  escapades  were  enjoyed,  and  created  as 
much  amusement  as  anything  else. 

For  now  the  two  men,  Dickerson  and  John  Wet- 
zel, painted  their  bodies  and  garbed  themselves  in 
complete  Indian  style,  and  had  no  fear  of  the  result, 
trusting  to  their  fluency  in  the  Indian  language 
to  aid  materially  in  the  deception  and  prevent  detec- 
tion. 

^  We  are  half  Indian  anyhow,"  said  they,  "  and 
the  wonder  is  we  are  not  wholly  so  out  in  this  night- 
mare land." 

Whatever  induced  them  thus  to  undertake  the 
expedition  is  not  known,  outside  of  the  novelty  and 
danger  of  the  undertaking  and  their  desire  to 
manifest  their  contempt  for  the  Indians'  gullibility. 
They  were  not  employed  by  government  nor  recog- 
nized as  scouts.    Each  man  constituted  himself  a 


WETZEVS  BROTHERS,  379 

government  in  himself,  bestowing  upon  himself  the 
authority  to  cact  as  he  thought  best  and  to  be  fully 
exonerated  in  the  result.  Then,  instead  of  the  usual 
mode  in  these  enterprises, — of  killing  the  foe  on 
sight,  and  taking  no  captives, — these  two  masquer- 
ading men  determined  to  bring  in  a  prisoner  to 
make  a  pet  of  him  as  they  would  a  monkey  or  a 
cub  bear. 

Their  idea  obtained  little  attention  from  the 
serious  settlers,  but  then,  as  now,  there  was  no 
gathering  of  people  among  whom  there  were  not 
those  whose  whole  lives  appeared  to  be  on  the  look- 
out for  amusement  and  delectation.  By  these 
"Wetzel  and  Dickerson  were  much  approved,  and 
what  was  called  nonsense  by  the  more  sober  mind 
was  here  regarded  as  the  greatest  kind  of  bravery,^ 
seeing  that  the  masquerade  was  not  to  be  attended 
by  merry  dances  and  junketing. 

The  two  men,  keeping  their  wits  about  them,  in 
spite  of  their  grotesque  appearance,  pushed  through 
the  hostile  Indian  country,  with  silent  tread  and 
keen  outlook,  till  they  came  near  the  head  of  the 
Sandusky  River,  where  they  came  full-tilt  upon  a 
small  Indian  village. 

Their  belief  in  their  disguises  may  have  failed 
them  a  little  here,  for  it  would  appear  that,  instead 
of  pushing  on  and  entering  into  the  village  and 


380  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

claiming  to  be  what  they  assured  themselves  they 
represented  so  well,  they  concealed  themselves  near 
a  path  which  appeared  to  be  considerably  trav- 
eled, and  prepared  to  wait. 

In  the  course  of  the  first  day  of  their  ambush, 
they  saw  several  small  companies  of  Indians  pass 
by  them,  almost  brushing  the  grass  that  hid  them. 
But  as  it  was  not  their  desire  to  raise  an  alarm 
among  the  enemy,  they  permitted  these  small  com- 
panies to  pass  by  undisturbed.  All  the  next  day 
they  waited  here  undetected.  In  the  early  evening 
of  that  second  day  they  saw  two  Indian  youths 
coming  sauntering  along  the  road,  in  the  merriest 
possible  moods,  wrestling  as  they  came.  The  two 
disguised  white  men  immediately  stepped  from  their 
hiding-place  out  into  the  road,  and  with  the  most 
confident  air  in  the  w^orld  went  forward,  as  if  meet- 
ing friends,  until  they  w^ere  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
advancing  Indian  youths. 

"White  men,  no  like  Injuns,"  said  one  of  the 
Indians  at  once,  thus  destroying  the  hallucinations 
of  the  two  men. 

Without  another  word,  and  knowing  that  they 
were  in  immediate  danger,  Wetzel  drew  his  toma- 
hawk and,  with  a  powerful  sweep,  knocked  one  of 
the  Indians  down. 

DickersoD,  at  the  same  instant,  threw  his  arms 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  381 

about  the  other  Indian,  and,  by  a  dexterous  move- 
ment, tumbled  him  to  the  ground.  By  this  time 
John  Wetzel  had  killed  the  other  Indian, ^d  turned 
his  attention  to  gagging  and  pinioning  the  remain- 
ing one. 

This  was  speedily  accomplished ;  and,  taking  the 
scalp  of  the  dead  red-skin,  the  two  white  men  set 
rapidly  off  with  their  prisoner  for  home.  They  trav- 
eled all  that  night  on  the  war-path  leading  towards 
Wheeling.  In  the  morning  they  struck  off  out  of 
the  path,  making  diverse  courses,  and  keeping  on 
the  hardest  ground,  where  their  feet  would  leave 
the  very  least  of  impressions,  as  this  would  render 
their  trail  more  difficult  to  follow  in  case  of  pursuit, 
which  they  strongly  suspected. 

They  pushed  along  until  they  had  crossed  the 
Muskingum,  and  had  left  it  behind  them  at  some 
distance,  when  their  prisoner  began  to  show  a  rest- 
ive, stubborn  disposition.  They  now  removed  the 
gag  from  his  mouth,  no  longer  fearing  his  shouts. 

"  Indian  no  go  with  white  cowards ;  Indian  rather 
die  by  Indian  hands,"  he  said  doggedly.  "  Indian 
brave  and  free.     Cords  make  Indian  no  prisoner." 

His  head  turned  from  them,  and  he  looked  back, 
smiling,  towards  the  country  he  had  come  from. 
He  finally  threw  himself  upon  the  ground,  and 
refused  to  rise. 


382  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

They  coaxed  and  pushed ;  he  held  his  head  towards 
them. 

"  White  man  may  tomahawk  Indian,"  he  said, 
"but  Indian  go  no  farther  with  white  man." 

They  used  every  argument  the}^  could  think  of  to 
induce  him  to  rise  to  his  feet  and  proceed  with 
them,  but  all  to  no  purpose. 

He  said  he  would  prefer  dying  in  his  native 
woods  than  to  preserve  his  life  a  little  longer,  and 
at  last  be  tortured  by  fire  and  his  body  mangled 
for  sport  when  they  took  him  into  their  towns. 

He  was  assured  that  his  life  would  not  only  be 
spared,  but  that  he  would  be  well-used  and  treated 
with  all  kindness.  But  nothing  could  induce  him 
to  rise  to  his  feet.  The  idea  that  he  would  be  put  to 
death  for  the  amusement  of  his  captors,  and  in  the 
presence  of  a  vast^  number  of  spectators  who  would 
enjoy  rapturously  the  struggles  in  his  torture  and 
death,  as  prisoners  were  often  treated  among  his 
own  people,  had  all  taken  such  a  strong  hold  on  his 
mind  that  nothing  would  change  his  idea,  and  he 
determined  to  spoil  the  possibility  of  any  gratifi- 
cation being  had  at  his  expense. 

As  it  was  not  their  desire  or  intention  to  kill  him, 
they  ceased  coaxing,  and  concluded  to  try  if  a 
hickory  switch,  well  applied  by  strong  hands,  would 
not  alter  his  determination. 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  383 

"White  man  coward,"  he  said,  with  infinite  scorn, 
as  he  saw  the  cutting  of  the  switch,  and  speaking 
in  his  broken  English — for  he  had  refused  to,  use 
the  Indian  language  to  these  men  who  attired  them- 
selves like  his  people. 

They  then  applied  the  switch  to  him,  but  without 
producing  the  slightest  effect;  he  seemed  to  be  as 
callous  and  indifferent  to  the  lash  as  he  had  been  to 
their  arguments  and  coaxings.  Finding  all  their 
efforts  to  get  him  forward  in  vain,  and  determined 
that  he  should  not  have  his  way  and  return  to  his 
tribe,  they  then  threatened  to  kill  him. 

Again  he  lowered  his  head  and  presented  it  to 
them — and  this  time  it  did  not  again  resupie  its 
upright  position,  for  a  tomahawk  found  its  way 
into  the  brain ;  and  after  the  scalp  had  been  taken 
the  supine  body  was  left  in  its  native  woods  which 
it  had  never  left,  a  prey  to  the  wild,  free  beasts 
of  the  forest,  and  the  free  birds  of  the  free  air. 

The  two  masqueraders  then  returned  home,  vexed 
and  disappointed,  to  show  only  two  scalps,  and  not 
the  dancing  prisoner  which  they  had  promised  to 
their  friends. 

The  following  incident,  in  which  General  Simon 
Kenton  appears  as  the  companion  of  Lewis  Wetzel's 
brother  Jacob,  is  vouched  for  in  Pritt's  "Border 
Life." 


38-4  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

Kenton  and  Jacob  Wetzel  made  arrangements  to 
make  a  protracted  fall  hunt  together.  For  that 
purpose  they  went,  in  the  month  of  October,  into 
the  wild,  farzy,  hilly  country  near  the  mouth  of  the 
Kentucky  Kiver,  for  deer  abounded  there  and  few 
Indians  had  lately  been  seen  in  the  immediate 
vicinity.  However,  when  Kenton  and  Wetzel  arrived 
there,  and  had  made  arrangements  for  their  hunt, 
they  discovered  by  unmistakable  signs  that  Indians 
had  lately  been  on  the  ground,  and  might  be 
lurking  near  at  hand. 

It  would  have  been  foreign  to  the  well-known 
character  of  a  Kenton  and  a  Wetzel  to  retreat  in  con- 
fusion without  first  ascertaining  the  exact  position 
and  number  of  an  enem3^'s  party. 

They  therefore  determined,  before  proceeding  on 
their  hunt  for  venison,  to  find  the  Indian  camp 
which  they  believed  to  be  at  no  great  distance  from 
them.  The  first  night  of  their  encampment  on  the 
ground  proved  that  their  surmises  w^ere  correct,  for 
reports  of  guns  had  sounded  far  ofi',  and  these 
reports  decided  them. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  reports  of  the  guns 
were  repeated,  and  far  off  in  the  air  they  could  see 
a  soft  haze  which  hinted  at  a  camp-fire.  With  these 
precursors  of  the  nearness  of  the  red  savages,  Ken- 
ton and  Wetzel  moved  cautiously  forward,  making 


WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  385 

as  little  sign  as  possible,  fearful  of  the  possibility  of 
Indian  videttes  stationed  some  distance  from  the 
camp,  as  was  usually  the  case.  All  day  they  moved 
slowly  onward,  coming  inch  by  inch  nearer  to  the 
smoke  of  the  camp-fire,  and  meeting  with  no  oppo- 
sition nor  hint  that  they  had  been  discovered. 

Towards  evening  they  came  within  full  sight  of  the 
camp.  They  kept  in  closer  concealment  yet,  and 
determined  that  as  soon  as  night  had  fallen,  and 
the  vigilance  of  the  Indians  had  relaxed  a  little, 
they  would  reconnoiter  the  vantage-ground,  find  out 
the  number  of  the  enemy,  and  then  govern  their 
future  operations  as  prudence  and  the  circumstances 
might  dictate. 

Night  had  no  sooner  come  than  they  crept  for- 
ward and  peered  into  the  camp,  and  by  the  light  of 
the  fire  found  five  men  and  five  blankets — there 
were  then  no  more  than  five  braves  here. 

"  When  shall  it  be  ?"  whispered  Wetzel  to  his  com- 
panion impatiently. 

"  Now,  if  you  say  so,"  was  the  reply. 

Having  confidence  in  themselves,  and  in  their 
usual  good  fortune,  they  determined  to  attack  the 
Indians  boldly,  and  without  any  shilly-shallying, 
for  they  wanted  to  begin  their  hunt  for  deer.  Con- 
trary to  all  military  tactics,  they  agreed  to  defer  the 

attack  until  it  was  day. 
33 


38(5  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"According  to  military  code,  small  numbers  should 
attack  large  in  the  dark.  But  we  had  better  have 
light  and  an  open  field,"  General  Kenton  had  ex- 
plained. ^ 

There  was  a  large  fallen  tree  lying  near  to  the 
camp  of  the  Indians,  and  this  prostrate  monarch  of 
the  forest  it  was  determined  should  serve  as  a  ram- 
part for  the  defense ;  and  it  would  also  serve  to  con- 
ceal the  two  attackers  from  observation  until  the 
battle  began. 

They  took  up  their  positions  behind  the  log, 
and  there  they  lay  silent,  until  light  should  come, 
and  they  should  be  able  to  draw  a  clear  bead. 

"  I  am  glad  I  have  a  double-barreled  rifle,"  whis- 
pered Jacob  Wetzel  once. 

"  Hush  !"  said  the  general. 

Daylight  struggled  through  the  trees.  By  the 
dim  light  the  two  ambushed  men  saw  the  Indians 
XQOving  about. 

"  Now  I"  whispered  the  general ;  "  and  when  my 
foot  moves,  fire." 

They  took  aim,  the  preconcerted  signal  was  given, 
fired,  and  two  Indians  fell  dead  to  the  ground.  As 
quick  as  thought  Jacob  Wetzel  fired  his  second  load, 
and  down  fell  the  third  Indian  to  bite  the  dust. 
Their  numbers  were  now  equal,  and  screaming  and 
yelling  at  the  top  of  their  voices  to  terrify  the 


\ 

WETZEL'S  BROTHERS.  387 

astonished  savages,  the  two  white  men  bounded 
from  their  covert  of  the  log,  and  were  with  their 
remaining  enemies  before  they  had  recovered  from 
the  shock.  These  two  remaining  Indians  took  to 
their  heels,  without  arms  or  blankets,  and  ran  in 
different  directions,  having  completely  lost  their 
heads,  and  becoming  panic-struck. 

General  Kenton  pursued  one,  whom  he  soon  over- 
took, struck  down,  and  returned  to  the  camp  with 
his  scalp.  But  Wetzel  w^as  not  in  the  camp,  and 
the  general  shouted  for  him.  A  faint  answer  far 
off  assured  him  of  the  young  man's  safety,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  Jacob  Wetzel  came  bounding  in,  the 
scalp  of  the  fifth  Indian  in  his  hand. 

"  And  now  let  us  hurry,"  said  he,  "  and  begin  our 
too-long-deferred  deer  hunt." 


388  LEWIS  WETZEL. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   NEW   ORLEANS   EPISODE. 

QOON  after  the  rescue  of  the  betrothed  of  his 
young  relative,  Simon,  Lewis  Wetzel,  seeming  to 
be  possessed  by  a  new  phase  of  unrest,  determined 
to  go  far  away  from  the  scenes  that  knew  him  best, 
and  which  now  seemed  to  pall  on  him;  so,  two 
days  after  he  had  last  seen  the  happy  man  taking 
the  saved  girl  on  to  the  settlement,  the  sun  gilding 
them  as  they  went  across  the  landscape,  he  engaged 
passage  on  a  flat-boat  just  about  leaving  for  New 
Orleans. 

"  Let  me  go  on  the  boat." 

"  We  go  to  New  Orleans,"  returned  the  captain. 

Wetzel  pulled  out  his  purse  and  paid  his  passage- 
money. 

"The  man  looks  as  excited  as  though  he  were 
running  away  from  his  wife  and  children,"  said  the 
captain  suspiciously.  "He  did  not  even  answer 
me  civilly  when  I  told  him  where  we  were  bound 
for." 

"  You'd  better  look  out,"  answered  the  deck-hand. 


THE  NEW  ORLEANS  EPISODE. 


"  "Who  knows  but  we  shall  have  a  mother-in-law 
starting  up  when  we  have  been  out  a  couple  of 
hours?     You  had  better  see  into  it,  captain/^ 

"  Look  at  him  now,"  pursued  the  captain,  "acting 
as  much  at  home  as  though  he  had  been  born  and 
bred  on  a  flat-boat.  See,  he  don't  even  look  aston- 
ished ;  and  it  is  as  likely  as  not  that  he  never  was 
on  such  a  craft  as  this  in  all  his  life.  It  is  hardly 
fair  to  a  man's  feelings,  and  that  man  the  captain 
of  a  boat  like  this  one,  to  take  so  much  for  granted 
and  not  even  deign  to  admire  the  taut  and  trim 
shape  of  everything  about  us.  What  shall  I  do, 
Neddy  ?  I  don't  want  to  be  hauled  up  before  a  court 
of  law." 

"The  best  thing  you  can  do,  captain,"  returned 
Neddy,  "  is  to  give  the  poor  chap  a  chance.  So  let's 
pull  off  immediately." 

The  boat  sailed  out  from  her  moorings,  and  put 
off  for  the  South.  All  the  w^ay  there  Wetzel 
remained  on  deck,  silent  and  sad.  He  answered 
when  spoken  to,  but  addressed  no  one  without  provo- 
cation, and  adventured  little  or  no  conversation  on 
his  own  account. 

There  was  a  sick  man  on  board,  going  home  to 
die,  his  thin,  transparent  face  peculiarly  fascinating 
the  strong,  robust  pioneer.  With  this  man  Wetzel 
consorted  most,  listening  to  faint,  vague  raptures,  as 


890  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

the  invalid  spoke  of  the  sunny  South  and  heaven, 
till  his  listener  scarcely  knew  at  times  which  place 
the  sufferer  alluded  to,  so  were  the  two  confused — 
the  one  his  earthly  home,  the  other  his  spiritual, 
and  both  equally  beloved. 

"  You  believe  in  its  glories  and  its  great  tender- 
ness?" once  asked  the  invalid. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Wetzel  in  a  low  tone  of  voice, 
looking  out  across  the  water. 

"  And  you  know  we  can  lie  there  day  after  day, 
unfearing  anything  at  all,  always  sure  of  a  mellow 
light  and  soft  winds,  that  never  disturb.  Then  the 
countless  songs,  the  soft,  sw^eet  music  in  the  air,  and 
the  rest  that  reminds  you  of  nothing  you  have  ever 
known ;  the  voices  of  those  you  love  around  you, 
the  odors  of  a  million  flowers  about  you,  and  above 
and  around  all  the  grateful  sense  of  rest  that  fears 
no  rude  awakening;  perfect  security  and  no  fear: 
Then  there  is  no  pain  there " 

"  No  pain  there,"  mused  the  listener. 

"  And,"  went  on  the  other, "  tears  are  dried,  smiles 
come  easily,  and  we  forget  all  the  dreary  longing 
and  the  want  we  have  ever  had !" 

"  All  the  dreary  longing  and  the  want  we  have 
ever  had !" 

"  And  then  some  one  we  loved  best  of  all  comes 
with  us,  hand  and  hand  we  go  through  all  the 


THE  NEW  ORLEANS  EPISODE.  391 

glories  scattered  so  profusely  around  us,  and  which 
are  ours  for  the  very  enjoying." 

"  Hand  in  hand  !" 

"  There  is  no  more  disappointment ;  those  we  love 
love  us.     You  believe  in  all  this,  do  you  not  ?" 

"  I  believe,  oh,  yes,"  answered  Wetzel ;  "  oh,  yes,  I 
believe,  though  maybe  you  see  it  with  a  sick  man's 
eyes,  and  suffering  here  see  only  in  heaven  the  dif- 
ference between  pain  and  the  total  lack  of  it." 

"  I  did  not  mean  that — I  did  not  speak  of  heaven. 
I  meant  the  South,  the  glorious,  warm  South,"  said 
the  other. 

Wetzel  could  only  answer  that  he  had  seen  very 
little  of  that  South  which  the  sick  man  lauded. 

At  New  Orleans  he  would  not  leave  the  invalid. 

"  Have  you  no  friends  ?"  he  asked. 

"Friends!"  echoed  the  man,  smiling,  "friends I 
many — many." 

"  They  are  not  here  to  receive  you." 

"  They  did  not  expect  me  so  soon.  The  captain 
sailed  sooner  than  he  expected  to,  on  your  account." 

"  On  my  account !" 

"  He  thought  you  were  in  a  hurry,  I  believe.  Yes, 
my  friends  will  soon  be  here.  But  don't  you  stay 
here  with  me  ;  go  to  your  own  dear  friends." 

"  They  are  not  in  New  Orleans." 

"Where  are  they?" 


392  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  I  do  not  know." 

The  sick  man  looked  up  at  him,  a  pang  of  sorrow 
crossing  his  face.  He  grasped  the  scout's  hand 
fervently. 

"It  will  all  be  right  some  day,"  he  said. 

"  It  is  all  right  now,"  answered  Wetzel. 

He  came  and  sat  on  the  wharf  with  his  new 
friend  until  loving  people  hurried  there  and  claimed 
the  invalid.  Then  the  same  look  came  into  Wetzel's 
face  that  had  rested  there  the  time  he  had  looked 
after  the  reunited  pair  going  towards  the  white 
settlement  in  the  sun.  But,  as  then,  he  grasped  his 
rifle  and  trudged  on  into  the  heart  of  the  busy 
place,  and  was  soon  lost  to  the  view  of  the  few 
people  who  looked  after  him  and  his  quaint  appear- 
ance. 

Many  months  elapsed  before  his  friends  heard 
anything  of  him,  and  his  life  while  in  New  Orleans 
seems  never  to  have  been  fully  known.  It  was 
hinted  though  that  he  roved  the  streets  of  the  city 
gazing  on  the  stately  buildings  and  crowded  work- 
shops and  busy  people.  He  was  said  to  have 
thrashed  a  man  for  using  profanity  towards  a 
woman.  He  found  stray  children  and  took  them 
home.  He  attracted  much  attention  from  his  garb 
and  his  adherence  to  his  rifle  in  place  of  a  walking- 
stick,  and  timid  women  held  aloof  from  the  wild- 


THE  NEW  ORLEANS  EPISODE.  '  393 

looking  man,  who,  often  observing  tlieir  repugnance, 
would  hurry  away  with  lowered  head. 

Then  there  came  news  to  the  West  that  he  was  in 
prison  in  New  Orleans.  What  the  exact  nature  of 
the  charge  w^as  has  never  been  fully  ascertained,  but 
it  is  very  certain  that  he  was  imprisoned  and  treated 
as  a  common  felon  for  nearly  two  years. 

It  was  said  that  he  was  going  along  a  street  one 
night,  and  seeing  a  ruffian  insulting  a  young  girl,  he 
had  rapped  the  man  over  the  head  with  his  rifle  as 
a  polite  reminder  that  he  had  better  stop  his  insults. 
The  man  stopped  the  insulting  proclivities  suffi- 
ciently to  lie  in  a  gutter  and  call  for  assistance, 
which,  when  it  came,  arrested  the  scout  and  lodged 
him  in  jail. 

Again  it  was  said  that  a  stranger,  gaudily  attired, 
came  up  to  him  in  the  street  one  day. 

"  Halloo,  captain,"  said  the  stranger,  grasping  the 
hand  of  the  confused  scout  and  wringing  it  cor- 
dially. 

"  I'-fn  not  a  captain,"  said  Wetzel  simply.  "  I'm 
only  Lewis  Wetzel." 

"  As  if  I  didn't  know  it,"  said  the  still  further 
pleased  stranger.  "  You  must  allow  me  to  call  you 
Captain  Wetzel.  And  how  are  bears  out  your  way, 
captain  ?" 

"There  are  not  so  many  as  there  used  to  be," 


392  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

"  I  do  not  know." 

The  sick  man  looked  up  at  him,  a  pang  of  sorrow 
crossing  his  face.  He  grasped  the  scout's  hand 
fervently. 

"It  will  all  be  right  some  day,"  he  said. 

"  It  is  all  right  now,"  answered  Wetzel. 

He  came  and  sat  on  the  wharf  with  his  new 
friend  until  loving  people  hurried  there  and  claimed 
the  invalid.  Then  the  same  look  came  into  Wetzel's 
face  that  had  rested  there  the  time  he  had  looked 
after  the  reunited  pair  going  towards  the  white 
settlement  in  the  sun.  But,  as  then,  he  grasped  his 
rifle  and  trudged  on  into  the  heart  of  the  busy 
place,  and  was  soon  lost  to  the  view  of  the  few 
people  who  looked  after  him  and  his  quaint  appear- 
ance. 

Many  months  elapsed  before  his  friends  heard 
anything  of  him,  and  his  life  while  in  New  Orleans 
seems  never  to  have  been  fully  known.  It  was 
hinted  though  that  he  roved  the  streets  of  the  city 
gazing  on  the  stately  buildings  and  crowded  work- 
shops and  busy  people.  He  was  said  to  have 
thrashed  a  man  for  using  profanity  towards  a 
woman.  He  found  stray  children  and  took  them 
home.  He  attracted  much  attention  from  his  garb 
and  his  adherence  to  his  rifle  in  place  of  a  walking- 
stick,  and  timid  women  held  aloof  from  the  wild- 


THE  NEW  ORLEANS  EPISODE. '  393 

looking  man,  who,  often  observing  their  repugnance, 
would  hurry  away  with  lowered  head. 

Then  there  came  news  to  the  West  that  he  was  in 
prison  in  New  Orleans.  What  the  exact  nature  of 
the  charge  was  has  never  been  fully  ascertained,  but 
it  is  very  certain  that  he  was  imprisoned  and  treated 
as  a  common  felon  for  nearly  two  years. 

It  was  said  that  he  was  going  along  a  street  one 
night,  and  seeing  a  ruffian  insulting  a  young  girl,  he 
had  rapped  the  man  over  the  head  with  his  rifle  as 
a  polite  reminder  that  he  had  better  stop  his  insults. 
The  man  stopped  the  insulting  proclivities  suffi- 
ciently to  lie  in  a  gutter  and  call  for  assistance, 
which,  w^hen  it  came,  arrested  the  scout  and  lodged 
him  in  jail. 

Again  it  was  said  that  a  stranger,  gaudily  attired, 
came  up  to  him  in  the  street  one  day. 

"  Halloo,  captain,"  said  the  stranger,  grasping  the 
hand  of  the  confused  scout  and  wringing  it  cor- 
dially. 

"  I'm  not  a  captain,"  said  Wetzel  simply.  "  I'm 
only  Lewis  Wetzel." 

"  As  if  I  didn't  know  it,"  said  the  still  further 
pleased  stranger.  "  You  must  allow  me  to  call  you 
Captain  Wetzel.  And  how  are  bears  out  your  way, 
captain  ?" 

*'  There  are  not  so  many  as  there  used  to  be," 


394  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

returned  Wetzel.  "  But  how  do  you  know  me  ? — and 
how  do  you  know  I  came  from  the  Mingo  Bottom  ?'* 

"  Why  it's  printed  in  your  face,  even  if  everybody 
did  not  know  who  you  were  beforehand.  Why 
your  name  is  all  through  New  Orleans.  I  should 
be  ashamed  of  my  own  mother's  only  son  if  I  had 
not  been  prolific  in  spreading  the  news  of  Lewis 
Wetzel's  various  escapades." 

"  The  people  of  New  Orleans  are  very  kind." 

"By  the  way,  captain,  would  you  mind  giving 
me  a  big  gold  coin  for  these  little  ones  ?  These  take 
up  too  much  room  in  the  shallow  pockets  our  tailors 
make  for  us.     But  your  pockets  hold  a  bushel." 

"  Of  course  I'll  accommodate  you,"  said  Wetzel, 
and  did  so,  and  with  another  hearty  shake  of  the 
hand,  and  a  promise  to  see  him  again,  the  gaudily- 
attired  stranger  hurried  off. 

"  That  is  a  very  nice  man,"  said  Lewis  Wetzel. 

He  attempted  to  spend  one  of  the  small  gold  coins 
which  the  very  nice  man  had  given  him  for  the 
large  piece,  and  as  it  was  discovered  to  be  counter- 
feit, and  many  others  being  found  upon  his  person, 
he  was  apprehended  and  sentenced  to  imprisonment 
for  uttering  false  coin. 

Whatever  charge  it  may  have  been  that  caused 
his  incarceration,  he  was  finally  liberated,  and 
hurried  home  by  way  of  Philadelphia,  to  which 


THE  NEW  ORLEANS  EPISODE.  395 

place  he  was  sent  from  New  Orleans.  He  shut  his 
eyes  sedulously  now  to  all  overtures  towards  friend- 
ship, no  matter  by  whom  made. 

While  in  Philadelphia  he  was  greeted  by  a  peace 
society  composed  of  Friends,  who,  seeing  his  dreary 
condition,  and  hearing  his  story,  offered  to  befriend 
him.  But  he  turned  away  from  their  gentle,  calm 
faces,  and  doubted  them. 

He  had  liked  the  quiet,  straight  streets  of  Phila- 
delphia, and  he  had  gone  and  looked  at  Independ- 
ence Hall,  and  felt  a  thrill  permeate  every  inch 
of  him  as  he  thought  of  those  stirring  things  enac- 
ted there  when  he  was  such  a  young  and  helpless 
babe. 

He  had  looked  at  Christ  Church,  and  thought  he 
could  see  General  Washington  going  in  there  of  a 
Sunday  to  listen  to  the  tender  voice  of  Bishop  White, 
who  stood  in  the  pulpit  and  reckoned  the  man 
in  the  pew,  who  was  now  termed  "the  father  of  his 
country,"  only  as  a  fellow-being  who  came  to  him 
for  guidance  into  the  country  whose  Father  spoke  to 
one  and  all  alike,  making  no  distinction  in  men,  if 
only  they  appealed  to  Him  and  believed  in  his 
strength  with  firmest  faith. 

Then  Wetzel  found  himself  once  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  a  plain,  low  building,  surrounded  by  a  high 
wall — a  Friends'  meeting-house.     Here  he  thought 


396  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

the  elm-trees  were  very  fine,  particularly  that  one 
which  had  been  taken,  a  slip,  from  Penn's  treaty-tree, 
up  farther  in  Philadelphia.  It  was  gazing  on  these 
trees  that  brought  him  in  contact  with  some  Friends 
who  would  have  been  good  to  him. 

"  We  do  not  press  ourselves  upon  thee,"  said  an 
elder,  "  though  verily  we  should  like  thee  to  come 
to  our  business-meeting  next  fifth-day,  in  our  meet- 
ing-house on  Twelfth  street,  and  perchance  instruct 
us  a  trifle  about  the  condition  of  the  frontier,  and 
how  best  the  miserable  condition  of  the  Indians 
may  be  ameliorated.  Thee  thyself  is  a  man  who 
has  had  vast  experience,  and,  peradventure,  thee 
would  not  refuse  to  induct  us  a  little  into  the  ways 
and  means  of  thy  part  of  tlie  United  States.  We 
would  do  well  by  thee,  friend  Wetzel,  if  thee  would 
give  us  a  chance  to  do  so." 

But  he  turned  away  from  them,  disregarding  their 
offer. 

"  You  may  be  all  right,"  he  said ;  "  but  I  thought 
the  nice  man  in  New  Orleans  all  right  too.  You 
don't  want  me  to  give  you  a  big  gold  coin  for  a  lot 
of  little  ones,  do  you  ?" 

"  Nay,"  said  the  drab-coated  elder  gently,  "  small 
coins  are  much  more  convenient  than  large  ones." 

"  Your  tailors  don't  make  your  pockets  so  small 
that  you  can't  find  room  for  your  money,  do  they  ?" 


THE  NEW  ORLEANS  EPISODE.  397 

"  Nay,  friend,  our  tailors  devise  our  pockets  with 
sufficient  capacity  to  accommodate  all  the  coin  we 
put  into  them." 

"  Well,  you  may  be  all  right ;  but  I  think  you'd 
better  leave  me  alone,"  said  Wetzel  firmly. 

"  It  shall  be  as  thee  wishes,"  answered  the  elder 
with  a  sigh.    "  Fare  thee  well,  friend !" 

W^etzel  waited  impatiently  till  he  got  to  Wheeling 
again ;  he  did  not  feel  safe  until  then. 

De  Haas  in  his  narrative  writes  : 

"  Mr.  Kodefer  says  he  saw  him  immediately  after 
his  return,  and  that  his  personal  appearance  had 
undergone  a  great  change  by  reason  of  his  long  im- 
prisonment.'' 

At  Wheeling  Creek  he  visited  his  mother  for  two 
days  during  the  absence  of  his  mother's  husband. 
He  was  kinder  now  towards  his  mother,  and  listened 
patiently  to  her  praises  of  her  husband,  now  a  pros- 
perous herder. 

"  You  are  more  like  you  were  when  you  were  very 
young,  Lewis,"  said  his  mother.  "  Ah,  Lewis,  I  re- 
member the  time  I  sat  in  the  bottom  of  the  wagon 
and  watched  our  old  little  home  disappearing." 

"  Well,  what  are  you  crying  about  now,  mother? 
That's  all  over,  years  and  years  ago,"  he  said,  not 
unkindly. 
'   "  Cry  I  why  I've  always  cried  about  you.    I  cried 

34 


398  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

that  day  in  the  wagon  till  you  were  all  damp.  Cry  ! 
women  have  always  cried  about  you ;  when  we 
heard  here  that  you  had  been  arrested  in  New 
Orleans " 

*'  Which  arrest  I  mean  to  avenge,"  he  said  quietly. 

"All  the  women  around  cried,"  went  on  his  mother, 
unheeding  the  interruption.     "  Cry !  why  when  you 
were  a  baby  in  your  cradle  didn't  Grizzle  Heister 
come  in  with  a  flag  and  cry  over  you  ?     You  don' 
remember  Grizzle  Heister,  do  you,  Lewis?" 

"  Not  very  well,"  he  answered  smiling. 

"Ah,  true ;  you  were  only  two  months  old.  Well, 
it's  not  your  fault  that  you  don't  remember  her. 
Ah,  there  was  a  fine  figure  of  a  woman ;  none  of 
your  Western  breed  there!" 

"  There's  nothing  against  the  Western  women, 
mother." 

"  I  didn't  say  there  was.  But  I  hope  I  am  allowed 
a  preference.  I  am  firmly  convinced  by  the  way 
Grizzle  cried  over  3^ou  that  day  that  had  you  chosen 
to  remain  you  might  have  married  her." 

"  She  was  fifteen  j^ears  old,  wasn't  she?'* 

"  Yes,  a  most  interesting  age." 

"  I  was  two  months !" 

"That's  neither  here  nor  there^  Lewis;  this  is 
New  Orleans  manners  to  your  mother,  li"kely ;  and 
I  wish  you  wouldn't  catch  me  up  so  quickly.  Ah, 
me !    I  wonder  where  Grizzle  is  now  ?" 


THE  NEW  ORLEANS  EPISODE.  399 

\ 

"A  grandmother,  no  doubt." 

"  It  is  possible ;  ber  family  always  did  marry 
early.  But  what  is  to  binder  you  from  marrying, 
Lewis  ?     You  are  getting  old  and " 

"  Ugly,"  laugbed  a  woman's  voice. 

It  was  Mrs.  Cookis,  a  relative  coming  in. 

"  Yes,  Lewis,"  she  went  on,  "  it's  high  time  you 
thought  of  settling  down  like  the  rest  of  us.  Now 
I  know  the  sweetest,  dearest,  lovingest,  smartest, 
gentlest  creature  in  the  world ;  and  she  thinks  you 
are  the  boldest,  brazenest,  hatefulest,  fearfulest  man 
in  creation — and  that's  next  to  saying  that  she  is 
over  head  and  ears  in  love  with  you.  Now,  come, 
let  your  mother  and  me  fix  it  up  between  you  two. 
You  surely  can't  refuse  a  woman  such  a  trifle! 
Come !     What  do  you  say?" 

"  There  is  no  woman  in  this  world  for  me," 
he  said  sadly;  "but  I  do  hope  there  may  be  one 
in  heaven." 

He  left  the  room  and  the  house  after  this,  and 
next  day  he  had  disappeared  in  the  old  fashion. 

He  had  told  a  man  or  two  that  now  he  was  at 
home,  he  felt  like  an  arrant  coward,  and  longed  to 
go  back  to  New  Orleans  and  have  revenge  of 
the  man  who  had  caused  his  imprisonment.  He 
was  not  to  be  laughed  out  of  it,  he  was  not  to  be 
argued  out  of  it ;  and  the  very  thought  that  he  had 


400  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

been  made  a  dupe  of,  and  that  he  must  be  jeered  at 
by  the  man  who  had  duped  him,  as  not  being  able 
to  compete  with  a  rascal's  duplicity,  made  him  chafe 
and  long  to  wipe  out  the  disgrace  of  iron  chains 
and  bolts  and  bars  by  a  free  use  of  his  manhood 
and  a  speedy  satisfaction  upon  his  enemy. 

When  he  disappeared  he  was  called  fool-hardy, 
and  he  lost  friends  by  this  line  of  action.  And 
those  at  home  waited  daily  for  intelligence  of  his 
death  in  a  street  brawl  in  New  Orleans,  or  his  arrest 
as  a  murderer.  But  this  startling  news  never  came, 
and  month  after  month  passed  and  there  was  no 
report  of  him  whatever.  He  was  given  up  for  lost 
by  some,  his  mother  among  the  rest,  and  it  was 
even  proposed  to  send  a  delegation  to  New  Orleans 
to  ascertain  the  cause  of  no  news  of  him. 

"Let  me  go,"  said  Charley  Madison,  now  a  well- 
to-do  farmer,  and  very  anxious  for  a  little  change  in 
his  life. 

"  Indeed,  I  won't  let  you  go,"  said  his  buxom  and 
comely  wife. 

"  What  have  you  got  to  say  against  it,  Berta  ?"  he 
asked. 

"Only  that  you  shan't  go,"  she  replied  calmly, 
and  took  his  arm  and  led  him  away. 


THE  LAST  INDIAN.  401 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

THE    LAST   INDIAN. 

T)UT  all  this  pother  and  worry  was  brought  to  a 
close  after  many  months  of  vexatious  continu- 
ance. For  Wetzel  one  day  appeared  in  the  neigh- 
borhood, his  rifle  over  his  shoulder,  as  though  he 
had  been  only  on  one  of  his  old  scouts. 

But  whether  Lewis  Wetzel  avenged  his  wrongs,  as 
he  had  vowed  to  do,  his  biographers  at  this  time 
cannot  say.  Only  it  is  fair  to  say  that  he  would  not 
have  come  across  the  man  who  had  wronged  him 
by  any  secret  means ;  and  if  he  took  any  revenge,  it 
was  scarcely  less  than  a  manly  one. 

He  never  told  what  he  had  done,  nor  if  he  had 
come  across  the  man.  But  he  returned  this  second 
time  with  much  of  his  old,  well-known  strength, 
and  his  propensity  for  the  woods  seemed  redoubled, 
if  possible,  to  atone  for  his  long  absence  from  them. 
He  was  forever  hunting,  and  his  deer-hides  found 
ready  purchasers ;  for  the  more  peaceful  deer  were 
his  victims  now.  With  advancing  years  and  expe- 
rience, he  seemed  to  regard  the  taking  of  human 


402  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

life  with  more  thought,  though  his  hatred  for  the 
Indians  had  never  deserted  him.  The  savages  were 
not  so  plentiful  now  as  formerly,  and  they  had  moved 
further  up  the  country,  and  were  seldom  seen  around 
the  settlements  that  claimed  Wetzel,  for  adventurous 
people  had  long  passed  by  Wheeling  and  its  envi- 
ronment, and  gone  out  to  greater  wilds  and  less  set- 
tled lands  to  lay  their  claims  and  establish  their 
towns.  * 

Therefore,  Wetzel,  losing  none  of  his  hatred,  yet 
did  not  follow  up  his  foe  with  his  old  cunning  and 
recklessness.  He  was  destined,  however,  to  go  to 
those  further  wilds,  too,  after  an  adventure  wherein 
some  of  his  old  taste  returned  to  him.  And  he  it 
was  who  was  often  engaged  for  months  at  a  time  by 
the  settlers  furthest  removed  from  the  aid  of  the 
forts  to  hunt  up  and  locate  their  lands. 

The  incident  which  seemed  to  change  him  from 
the  man  loving  to  brood  in  the  woods  while  he 
tracked  the  deer  may  be  summed  up  in  a  little 
space,  and  shows  that  very  little  of  his  old  cunning 
had  been  lost  through  his  long  incarceration  in 
New  Orleans  and  the  inactivity  and  gloominess  of  a 
hopeless  prison  discipline  to  a  man  like  him. 

Returning  home  one  day  from  a  hunt  north  of 
the  Ohio,  fatigued,  and  suspecting  no  treachery 
here  where  he  had  been  for  the  last  week  or  so,  he 


THE  LAST  INDIAN.  403 

suddenly  espied  an  Indian,  not  far  off,  in  the  very 
act  of  raising  his  gun  to  fire  on  him.  Both  the 
Indian  and  the  white  man  immediately  sprang  to 
trees,  behind  which  they  stood  for  more  than  an 
hour.  There  was  nothing  to  be  done  but  to  think 
it  out.  To  remain  long  in  that  position  was  not  to 
the  taste  nor  inclination  of  Wetzel. 

He  suddenly  hit  upon  the  boldest  plan  imagin- 
able, the  successful  carrying  out  of  which  displays 
to  the  fullest  the  superiority  of  the  sagacity  of  the 
w^hite  man  over  the  natural  simplicity  of  the  savage. 

"  I  can't  help  myself,"  communed  Wetzel,  for  the 
first  time  in  his  life  hesitating  w^here  the  life  of  an 
Indian  was  intended. 

He  peeped  from  behind  his  tree,  and  saw  the 
Indian  doing  the  same  from  behind  the  tree  that 
sheltered  him,  but  with  this  difference:  that  the 
Indian  had  his  rifle  lodged  in  a  knot  of  the  tree, 
aimed  directly  towards  the  spot  where  the  wd:iite 
man  lay  concealed. 

"No,  I  can't  help  myself,"  said  Wetzel  for  the 
second  time. 

He  thereupon  removed  his  bear-skin  cap,  and  very 
cautiously  adjusting  it  to  the  ramrod  of  his  gun, 
w^ith  the  slightest,  most  dubious,  and  hesitating 
movement,  as  though  fearful  of  venturing  a  little 
glance,  he  protruded  the  cap  from  the  side  of  the 
tree. 


404  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

In  an  instant  there  was  a  crack,  and  the  furry  cap 
flew  from  the  ramrod,  torn  by  the  bullet  from  the 
gun  of  the  ever  vigilant  savage,  whose  aim  Wetzel 
even  then  thought  admirable.  Quick  as  lightning 
Wetzel  leaped  up,  and  passed  from  the  side  of  the 
tree  and  advanced  upon  the  confounded  Indian. 

"  White  man's  ghost,"  gasped  the  savage. 

At  this  Wetzel  laughed,  which  laugh  seemed  to 
assure  the  Indian  of  the  flesh  and  blood  quality  of 
his  foe;  for,  raising  his  tomahawk  aloft  with  the 
ever-rapid  movement,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  it 
leaped  from  the  tawny  hand,  but  not  before  Wetzel's 
bullet  had  sped  on  its  work  of  death.  For  as  the 
tomahawk  descended,  harmless,  behind  him,  Wetzel 
saw  the  brave  leap  convulsively  into  the  air,  and, 
straighteniug  his  limbs  as  he  descended,  fall  prone 
upon  his  face,  quite  dead.  Wetzel  went  up  and 
gazed  at  him. 

"  And  was  my  life  given  to  me  to  do  such  work 
as  this?"  he  said.  "Are  there  not  nobler  ways  of 
dealing  with  a  deadly  foe  than  this?  Did  not  my 
life  in  that  Southern  pest-city  show  me  crime  like 
this  where  there  should  have  been  loving  pity  and 
refuge?  What  did  my  life  in  that  prison,  sur- 
rounded by  what  is  called  the  scum  of  society, — the 
scum  because  it  rises  rapidly  to  the  surface,  while 
the  less  hurried  body  of  the  water  remains  below, — 


THE  LAST  INDIAN.  405 

what  did  that  prison-life  teach  me?  Oh,  that  men 
of  strength  like  mine  would  go  to  crowded  towns 
and  use  their  arms  to  protect  innocence  in  danger, 
truth  belied,  and  weakness  trodden  down !  Had  I 
but  seen  in  my  early  days  as  I  see  now,  I  might  have 
been  a  better  man.  If  my  father  had  only  been 
content  with  his  poverty  when  I  was  born,  there 
might  have  been  shown  to  me  a  different  line  of 
action  than  I  have  made  mine.  If  the  girl  who 
wept  over  my  cradle  had  only  influenced  my  mother 
to  remain,  and  thus  have  kept  my  father !  Yet, 
what  might  my  father  have  become,  over  there,  in 
poverty  and  discontent?  Temptation  might  have 
made  him  one  of  those  very  fallen  ones  that  men 
like  I  should  raise.  And  where  might  I  have 
been,  with  a  fallen  man  for  a  father?  In  the  mire, 
very  likely.  But,  no ;  my  father  was  a  brave  man, 
not  a  man  like  his  sons — killers  of  God's  people. 
My  father  accepted  God's  profusion,  not  God's  curse 
of  Cain.  Yet  am  I  a  murderer?  Have  not  the 
deaths  of  certain  men  been  necessary  to  life  since 
the  very  beginning  ?  And  has  not  God  selected  men 
to  avenge  his  people's  rights?  Have  I  not  been 
instrumental  in  preserving  a  few  innocent  lives  at 
the  expense  of  less  worthy  ones  ?  No,  I  am  not  a 
murderer,  but  my  revenge  actuated  me  too  much. 
But  it  was  not  a  flippant  revenge,  and  it  was  for  the 


406  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

life  of  one  of  God's  noblest  men — my  father !  And 
so  I  come  back  to  the  starting-point,  and  prove 
nothing.  Who  can  answer  the  questions  I  have 
asked  myself  all  my  life  long?  I  cannot  answer 
them  myself,  and  I  dare  not  ask  another's  interpre- 
tation. Whether  I  have  been  wholly  wrong  or 
partly  right,  whether  my  life  will  be  called  wasted 
or  partly  useful,  I  know  that  such  a  man  as  this 
cooling  savage  w^as  one  short  hour  ago  has  possi- 
bilities which  not  I  nor  any  other  man  alive  dare 
limit  or  guage  by  the  mistakes  and  perversions  of 
our  own  selfish  lives." 

Then,  giving  one  more  look  upon  the  prostrate 
body,  and  throwing  a  few  tree  branches  on  it,  Wet- 
zel left  the  woods,  and  determined  on  peace,  if  he 
could  ever  obtain  it. 


VALE.  40r 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

VALE. 

A  S  Wetzel's  name  and  prowess  had  long  been  the 
subject  of  universal  regard,  and  as  he  was 
known  to  be  one  of  the  most  efficient  scouts  and 
practical  woodmen  of  his  day,  his  services,  as  has 
been  before  mentioned,  were  now  most  eagerly 
called  for  by  the  new  settlers  anxious  to  found  their 
claims  in  the  further  West.  Their  reliance  on  the 
man  forced  him  to  accede  to  their  wishes,  no  matter 
what  his  own  longing  after  rest  may  have  been. 
He  saw  his  duty  in  thus  helping  the  ambitious  new 
men  coming  in  from  crowded  cities  and  overbur- 
dened countries, — German,  Irish,  or  English, — and 
he  helped  them  all  that  he  could.  Under  the  protec- 
tion of  the  scout  they  felt  safe,  for  they  no  sooner 
landed  in  the  neighborhood  that  had  known  him 
all  his  life  than  stories  of  him  were  told  them,  and 
they  were  advised  "to  get  Lewis  Wetzel,  and  then 
they  need  have  no  fear  of  Indian  interlopers,  for 
that  the  Indians  held  him  in  mortal  dread  and 


408  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

always  gave  liim  a  wide  berth  wherever  he  might 
happen  to  be." 

During  his  inactivity  the  savages  seem  to  have 
formed  a  more  extravagantly  exalted  opinion  of  his 
qualities  as  a  subduer,  so  that  they  held  aloof  and 
always  imagined  he  was  on  their  trail. 

Of  those  who  became  largely  interested  in  West- 
ern lands  about  this  time,  was  John  Madison,  the 
brother  of  James,  afterwards  President  Madison. 
He  employed  Lewis  Wetzel  to  accompany  him 
through  the  Kanawha  region.  During  their  expe- 
dition they  one  day  came  across  a  deserted  hunter's 
camp,  into  which  they  penetrated  and  found  a  lot 
of  goods  concealed. 

"  I  think  I'll  help  myself  to  a  blanket,"  said  young 
Madison,  and  did  so. 

That  day  in  crossing  Little  Kanawha  they  were 
fired  upon,  and  Madison  was  killed.  Strange  as  it 
may  appear,  Wetzel  failed  to  pursue  the  Indians 
who  committed  the  deed.  He  took  the  body  to 
Madison's  friends  and  went  home  to  Wheeling, 
where  he  spent  days  and  weeks  alone  in  the  woods. 
The  birds  became  used  to  him,  and  would  hop  upon 
him  as  he  rested  there.  There  was  a  lame,  delicate 
little  doe  that  used  to  come  and  rest  its  face  beside 
his,  looking  at  the  fierce  man  out  of  tender,  melting 
eyes,  and  unafraid. 


VALE,  400 

General  Clarke,  in  the  celebrated  tour  across  the 
Kocky  Mountains,  had  heard  much  of  Lewis  Wetzel 
in  Kentucky,  and  determined  to  secure  his  services 
in  the  perilous  enterprise.  A  messenger  was  sent 
for  him,  but  he  was  reluctant  to  go.  However,  he 
finally  consented,  and  accompanied  the  party  during 
the  first  three  months'  travel,  but  then  declined  to 
go  any  further,  and  returned  home. 

Shortly  after  this,  his  old  restlessness  returning 
with  redoubled  force,  he  made  up  his  mind  to  leave 
his  part  of  the  country.  He  went  to  his  mother 
and  sisters,  and  made  his  simple  good-bye's. 

"  When  shall  you  return  ?"  was  asked  of  him. 

"  Return !"  he  answered,  "  I  do  not  know.  Wher- 
ever I  may  be  of  most  use,  there  I  remain." 

"  We  need  you  here." 

"  I  do  not  think  so.  A  new  civilization  has 
sprung  up,  and  a  new  mode  of  settlement  has  come 
about.  The  Indians  are  more  peaceful,  and  killing 
them  w^hile  they  are  so  is  nothing  short  of  murder. 
They  may  be  wilder  and  fiercer  further  West,  but  I 
shall  not  go  there,  I  am  too  old." 

"  Old !  you  at  forty  years  of  age  ?" 

"  I  have  lived  more  than  my  age  in  many  things." 

"  If  nothing  else  kept  you  near  the  new  settlers,  it 
should  be  that  your  vow  has  never  been  laid  aside." 

**I  have  never  broken  my  vow,  as  the  Lord 


410  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

knows,  and  I  love  my  father  as  mnch  now  as  I  ever 
did  when  he  was  with  me.  But  I  should  not  be 
keeping  that  vow  to  leave  this,  my  own  part  of  the 
country,  and  seek  after  Indians.  I  have  kept  the 
oath  I  made — to  kill  any  Indian  that  came  across 
my  path !" 

He  took  passage  on  a  flat-boat  going  down  the 
river,  and  his  friends  came  to  see  him  off.  They 
said  that  he  smiled  that  day  such  as  he  had  never 
smiled  before — the  smile  of  an  old  man  having 
nothing  before  him  but  hope  of  rest.  There  were 
women  who  wept  at  parting  with  him. 

"  You  know,  Lewis  Wetzel,  that  I  was  always 
proud  of  you  for  a  brave  man,"  sobbed  Charley 
Madison's  wife. 

"  You  were'  always  a  kind  friend,  Mrs.  Madison  " 
he  replied. 

"  Mrs.  Madison !"  she  said,  reproachfully. 

"Berta,  then,"  he  smiled. 

"Come,  Berta,  the  boat  is  about  leaving,"  urged 
her  husband. 

"  What  do  I  care !"  cried  she.  "  It's  all  your  fault, 
Charley  Madison." 

Wetzel's  young  relative,  Simon's  young  wife,  now 
came  up. 

"  I  owe  so  much  to  you.  I  pray  for  you  always," 
she  said  simply,  and  left  his  side. 


VALE.  411 

"Well,  Lewis,"  said  his  mother,  "the  world  is 
wide,  but  it  always  sends  us  back  to  where  we  started 
from.  Good-bye,  my  sou,  and  come  again  in  the 
spring." 

So  they  all  left  him,  and  grouped  together  on  the 
shore,  watching  him  sailing  away  from  them. 

"  Here,  let  us  give  him  three  cheers,"  cried  Charley 
Madison. 

"  Don't  you  dare  to,"  shrieked  his  wife.  "  Why  do 
you  want  to  cheer  him  ?  He  is  not  going  oul?  in 
happiness !  Can't  you  see  his  face,  and  the  sorrow 
there?" 

"But,  Berta,  it's  our  good-will  for  him  that  makes 
me  want  to  cheer  him,"  exclaimed  her  husband, "  as 
a  sort  of  send-off." 

"  Send  off!  Ugh,  you  disagreeable  thing,  you !  It's 
all  your  fault." 

"What  is  my  fault?" 

"  Everything— that's  what." 

But  there  was  no  cheering,  as  they  watched  him 
there.  Slowly,  slowly  down  the  stream  he  sailed, 
calmly  and  gently,  the  ripples  the  boat  made  in 
moving  floating  up  against  the  shore  in  little,  whis- 
pering wavelets.  Slowly,  slowly  down  the  stream 
he  sailed,  under  the  heavy  shadows  of  the  clustering 
trees  on  the  shore.  Far  out  the  silent  watchers  on 
the  shore  saw  a  golden  spot  on  the  waters  where  the 


412  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

trees  ceased  to  shadow  the  path  of  the  boat,  and  the 
sun  played  in  all  its  glorious  light,  that  mocked 
at  shadows.  Into  this  golden  spot  the  boat  sailed 
softly,  and  the  sun  lit  up  the  figure  standing  at  the 
prow  like  a  halo ;  lit  up  the  dark  face  till  they  said 
it  shone  with  a  strange,  weird  expression ;  lit  up  the 
gun-barrel  till  it  was  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  as  the 
boat  rocked  and  made  the  light  strike  it  every  instant 
from  a  new  direction;  lit  up  the  long,  black  hair 
and  the  fierce  eyes  that  were  softer,  dimmer  now. 
He  took  his  hat  from  his  head,  out  there  in  the 
golden  spot  on  the  waters,  and  held  it  up  to  those 
far  away  on  the  shore,  and  held  it  so  till  the  boat 
w^ent  further  and  further,  rounded  a  curve,  and  he 
■was  gone;  and  the  ripples  still  coming  into  the 
feet  of  the  group  on  the  shore  alone  told  that  he 
had  been  here  and  was  gone  away  from  the  land 
that  knew  him  so  well,  never,  never  to  return. 

For  he  never  did  come  back.  Shortly  after  he  had 
gone  he  was  heard  from  at  intervals — merely  that 
some  one  had  heard  of  him  in  some  out-of-the-way 
place.  He  is  known  to  have  visited  a  relative  living 
about  twenty  miles  in  the  interior  from  Natchez, 
and  here  he  lived  until  the  summer  of  1808,  when 
he  died,  at  the  age  of  forty-four  years,  in  the  prime 
of  a  life  that  had  never  been  happy  and  seldom 
satisfied. 


VALE.  413 

That  the  description  of  him  attempted  in  these 
pages  may  be  less  full  than  the  reader  may  like,  the 
author  is  well  advised.  But  it  has  been  very  care- 
fully done,  and  has  closely  followed  a  mass  of  notes 
and  papers  detailing  the  exploits  narrated  here. 

More  seems  to  have  been  thought  of  the  extraor- 
dinary length  of  his  hair  and  his  fury,  as  though  it 
were  an  acknowledged  fact  that  length  of  hair  and 
fury  were  always  connected,  than  to  the  more  gener- 
ous points  in  the  man.  The  matter  in  the  hands  of 
the  author  has  helped  to  show^  the  fallacy  of  much  of 
this  belief,  and  it  is  hoped  that  murder  and  revenge 
will  not  be  conceded  as  the  whole  tenor  of  Lewis 
Wetzel's  life. 

For  the  very  work  of  destruction  to  which  Lewis 
"Wetzel's  life  was  devoted  was,  at  the  same  time,  a 
service  to  the  frontier  settlers.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  his  prowess,  and  the  influence  of  his  name, 
struck  a  wholesome  fear  into  the  minds  of  the 
Indians,  and  saved  the  pioneers  from  many  a  hostile 
incursion.  Let  those  w^ho  shudder  as  they  think  of 
the  Indian  scout, — a  true  hero  and  benefactor  in  his 
day  and  way, — reflect  upon  the  times  and  circum- 
stances as  narrated  in  these  pages;  and  let  them 
grapple  with  that  profounder  and  more  mysterious 
problem  of  the  conquest  of  civilization  over  barba- 
rism, and  they  may  be  enabled  to  see  in  this  child  of 


414  LEWIS  WETZEL. 

the  forest  the  elements  that  in  another  age  and 
under  happier  circumstances  are  revered  in  philan- 
thropists and  benefactors  of  mankind. 

That  others  than  the  readers  of  this  volume  found 
good  in  the  man  may  be  vouched  for  by  a  note  of 
De  Haas  with  which  the  author  closes : 

"  When  Lewis  Wetzel  professed  friendship,  he  was 
as  true  as  the  needle  to  the  pole. 

"  He  loved  his  friends  and  hated  their  enemies. 

"  He  was  a  rude,  blunt  man,  with  but  few  words 
before  company;  but  with  his  friends,  not  only 
sociable,  but  an  agreeable  companion. 

"  Such  was  Lewis  Wetzel ;  his  name  and  fame  will 
long  survive,  when  the  achievements  of  men  vastly 
superior  in  rank  and  intellect  will  sluQiber  with  the 
forgotten  past." 


THE   END. 


